Firefly
by Shujin1
Summary: Lung is conceived a day later and born female. Years later, a certain bug controller ventures out for her first night of heroism. A simple twist of fate, with far reaching consequences.
1. Firefly

**Firefly**

* * *

The first wave of my insects died abruptly in a swirling flash of flame which told me exactly who had just walked in on the scene of my victory. The high I had been riding just a moment ago? Gone. I suddenly aware of the throbbing in my thigh and the bruise that was no doubt forming the right side of my rib cage. My right hand was pretty much useless. That's what happens when you try to catch a bullet without the necessary durability. It felt like all the bones in it were broken and I tried not to think about it. The only thing I really had were my bugs.

You do not fight Lung with bugs. You do not fight Lung, period.

I only knew about her from what I had heard on the news and read online, but I recognized her immediately. She was a bit shorter than me from what I could tell, standing even with most of the gang members I had just put down. She had an ornate metal mask over her face and was wearing one of those silk Chinese half dresses despite the chill, dyed crimson with a gold dragon snaking up her side. A lick of flame hovered around her head as a reminder of what kind of power she could bring to bear with a thought. And the ABB was her gang.

I was in so much trouble.

Lung came to a stop at the other end of the street and looked around. She didn't look like she was growing or sprouting scales so she must not think I was much of a threat. And I didn't want to be because Lung crushed threats. I wanted to get home alive.

"You did this." It wasn't a question. Her voice was accented and higher than I thought it would be given her reputation. I thought about not answering, but her men were covered in bug bites and I was standing among them injured. It was pretty obvious that it was my fault. The only hope I had was to be polite.

"Yes. Sorry." I winced. Why did I apologize?

She nodded. "They all live?"

"Yes!" I gasped, appalled. I just wanted to stop them, not _kill_ them. I said as much. "They were going to kill kids! I couldn't just - " Then I remembered who I was talking to and shut my mouth with a click.

Lung actually chuckled. "Short sighted." I don't think she was addressing me with that because she seemed to home in on the defacto leader of the small group. He'd gotten a face full of pepper spray and had gone down cursing. He, like the others, had gotten very still and quiet once Lung had started speaking. "You do not burn down house to get rid of pests." Her mask turned back to face me. "You poison them." Her flame flashed out and atomized a fly I'd been trying to sneak by her. "Or you crush them."

This was Lung. Undisputed ruler of the Docks. She could and has faced down entire teams of heroes, handing them their asses and then there was me, with my bugs.

"The Undersiders would have defeated you or fled," she raised her voice. "Look! This one embarrassed you! One!" She hauled the leader to his feet with a swift move, not bothered by his weight. "Where is Oni Lee?"

He mumbled something back.

Lung's head tilted. "I will." Then she dropped him. "You."

I pointed at myself unsure.

She nodded and started walking out of the alley towards me. "Come."

I opened my big mouth. "But I just took down your gang members!"

"You stopped them from being stupid. With bugs." Lung confirmed. That was about when it hit me that for some reason, I wasn't in trouble. Lung had, in a round about way, praised me. Twice. I honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that. "I saw." She stopped in front of me. "What is your name?"

I stared at her. My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, "I don't...I haven't picked one yet."

Lung looked me over. The metal dragon face was intimidating in the circling light of her flame. "Hachi."

My brain stalled. "Um, what?"

"Bee." She began to walk past me. "You wish that the ones who wronged me live? You will come."

I slowly began to follow her, wary of doing anything that would upset this strange situation I had found myself in. I went over her words in my mind, realizing what she was implying. She was giving me a chance to stop her. No, allowing me to stop her. That didn't make any sense. It was like one of those loaded questions where every answer was the wrong one. What was her game?

Lung's purposeful strides quickly carried her away from me and I hesitated. I could refuse the invitation and not cooperate with a notorious criminal but that would also mean walking away from multiple murders. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do that.

Lung looked over her shoulder at me and I picked up the pace. The ABB was the biggest gang in Brockton Bay with the second highest number of people with powers if the internet could be believed, just barely beaten out by the E88. Not that there was any real contest, not when Lung was Lung, rumored to get stronger the longer she was in a fight with no upper limit. It was how she stomped all of the smaller gangs at the Docks until they fell in line. ABB stood for 'Asian Bad Boyz' but that was an artifact of one of the larger sub groups, and it really said something about the leadership that the gang included Flipinos, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, even Indian and didn't splinter. ABB meant Lung.

It also meant Oni Lee, a scary sociopath who could teleport or create doubles of himself – I wasn't a hundred percent sure on the details – Aswang, a shape shifter that turned into a horrible dog like monster and a woman named Snake. No one knew what her power was, just a lot of speculation, but everyone agreed she was terrifying. Kali was not someone you want to meet in a dark alley either, specializing in blades. There were less notorious capes but those were the big four.

I honestly wasn't sure if Lung showing up was the best of five or not. Meeting her was still bad news but she didn't have the same kind of vicious reputation her lieutenants did. With them, it was guaranteed you were in for a world of hurt. But Lung didn't need to garner that kind of fear or intimidation. It was more a matter of inevitability. You lose.

I'd been gathering insects as we walked, replenishing the ones I'd lost to Lung's flame. Not that I was thinking of trying again, I was not suicidal, but having options made me feel a bit better about this whole thing. My hand had starting screaming in pain as the adrenaline wore off, but I kept quiet about it. A second ball of flame had joined the first around Lung's head, which was now dead even with mine, and in a few steps, taller. Her hair was bound in a tight bun with a vicious looking needle through it and she was barefoot.

A couple of feet back she had stepped on a piece of broken glass and she didn't even flinch, the bloody glass ejected from her sole mid step as a testament to her regeneration. She was anticipating a fight and it was showing.

Her head turned suddenly. "I hear..."

That's when she grabbed me and tossed me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You don't properly appreciate what superhuman strength means until someone carries you in a leap from the sidewalk to the second floor of a building on the far side of the street. She didn't make it all the way to the roof, but then she didn't need to. She just punched with her free hand into the wall and used that as a foothold to make a smaller hop to the roof.

Her hand was mangled but visibly and audibly straightening itself out with pops. Pain wasn't a thing for her apparently. She leapt from that roof to the next one over and then again, before I heard the gunshot. Lung sped up and the very air around her began to heat.

She threw herself over the edge, hoisting me up. "Lee!" And tossed me like a football.

Before I could scream, the distinctive yellow outfit and oni masked man caught me roughly and set me down on the ground hard enough to jar my knees. I didn't go splat, so there was that. The Oni Lee beside me crumbled into ash and I saw him again down the street, gun in hand and I saw the Undersiders.

A man wearing what looked like black motorcycle leathers and helmet cursed, backing up and black smoke started to pour off of him. A blonde haired girl wearing a domino mask was at the back, directing a vaguely female shaped suit wearing a gas mask that spit out flames. The fourth wasn't really wearing a costume, unless a cheap plastic Rottweiler mask counted standing by what looked like monsters, bloodied bone tips sticking out and gashes in their fur.

Lung crashed in front of them like a meteor, literally exploding in fire, detonating like a bomb of roiling fire that set her clothes alight and leeched the water from the air. Underneath the fire eaten holes, silvery scales were sliding out of her skin.

I didn't know what to do. Run? Attack? Attack who? Lung? I was supposed to stop her from killing, wasn't I? But she was _on fire_ and somehow fireproof. What was I going to attack her with?

Rottweiler girl snarled loudly. "Hurt!"

The huge nightmare leaping towards me with its mouth opened wide made up my mind for me. I scrambled backwards and immediately called on my bugs. I had the vague idea of stinging where the skin was split, hoping it was at least a little sensitive, and that led to my current plan: taking advantage of the wide open mouth heading my way. My bees and hornets surged forward ahead of me aiming for the tongue and soft gum tissue.

The monster yelped as stingers sunk into soft flesh in its mouth and in the vulnerable gaps in its skin, sounding a lot like a dog. It shut its mouth with a snap, skidding to a stop. I pressed my advantage. The bugs I'd gotten onto it's back didn't seem to be doing much so I relocated them to it's face, specifically the eyes and nose. If it was anything like the dog it sounded like, those were vulnerable areas.

They were.

It whined as it's paw reflexively came up, trying to brush off its face, sending it crashing to the ground. I felt a vindictive thrill go through me. I wasn't helpless.

As soon as I thought that, a thick cloying darkness swept the street stealing my vision, even the sounds of Lung's fire were muted and up/down seemed to warp. Almost as a reflex I reached out to my insects and I could feel them. And through them the ground they were standing on.

Lung's throaty chuckle echoed quietly. "I can hear you..."

There was a whump sound and the darkness dissipated. The man with the helmet had been thrown bodily into a wall, a streak across his midsection of burned leather. Unconscious, I hoped. Just because I wasn't sure what it was I was supposed to do, didn't mean I liked the thought of failing.

The woman with the gas mask went ballistic, spewing a large wall of flame as the blonde dashed off her mount to grab their fallen team mate. I'd already gotten to my feet again, running forward. Lung was at least seven feet tall now and wreathed in flame. I spared a moment to question whether or not she needed to breathe before I got close enough to really feel the heat. I didn't know the exact temperature but papers on the ground were simply igniting.

Oni Lee blinked to the other side of the napalm wall and was instantly tackled by a dog monster. A second later all it had was a mouthful of ash as he reappeared on the roof of an adjacent building with a torn sleeve. It threw itself at Lung instead and instead of meeting it head on, Lung swayed to the side, grabbing on to a spike of bone and helped it swing past her. Really helped it. It crunched into the dumpster down street and lay still.

Rottweiler girl didn't appreciate that, screaming.

"Bitch, no!"

"She -" the girl – Bitch? - couldn't get the words out.

The blonde shook her head harder.

Gas mask spit out more flames, hot enough to eat through the concrete at Lung's feet. The gang leader simply took a step. Yup, fireproof. Gas mask back pedaled.

"Shit shit shit, guys! Need to go!"

Bitch whistled and a crushing weight crashed into me from behind. The dog, I'd forgotten about the one I'd fought! I panicked, lashing out with everything I had, feeling my breath being crushed out of my lungs and drool drip into my hair.

Then the weight was gone, replaced by stifling heat. I rolled over.

Lung.

She'd dropped the aura of flame just enough to keep from singing me. I couldn't see the expression on her face because of the mask but she didn't look at me for long. I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened. She turned her head and I could see her scales receding. "Lee."

Oni Lee blinked down to the street. I could vaguely make out the Undersiders making their escape on foot, the man draped over a dog. The one that had been knocked off me slunk to its feet, growling but retreated.

"Let them go," I coughed.

Lung studied me. I couldn't see her expression through the dragon mask but I was getting that impression from her quiet stare. I, on the other hand, tried to ignore just how much of her clothing had burnt off. Not an easy feat considering I was still on the ground and she was standing over me. I sat up.

Thank god for my mask.

"Ah." She said, a drawn out sound. Then she walked past me in the opposite direction of where the Undersiders had gone, and was shrinking steadily in height, her wreath of flame becoming three balls of fire, then two. That was a yes then, I thought. And in spite of this being the outcome I wanted, Lung actually listening to me, the fact remained that Lung listened to me. I didn't have to bodily hold her back from caving in someone's head, not that I could have even if I had tried to.

But now this was really not making sense.

Oni Lee crumbled into ash, popping back up on the roof once more, then popped down. "Militia."

Lung stopped walking and chuckled. "Hachi."

I wanted to scream. Hachi was not my name! And I was pretty sure that was a number, not an insect! However, what I wasn't about to do was accuse Lung of bad Japanese. I just pointed at myself again to be sure.

She nodded.

Great.

I rolled onto my feet, biting back a scream when I accidentally put weight on my broken hand. And it was definitely broken. I had no idea how I was going to explain to my Dad how I managed to shatter my dominant hand while I was supposed to be home asleep. I was going to have to cross that bridge when I came to it.

By the time I reached the end of the street, Lung was back to baseline and Miss Militia's jeep came roaring around the corner, a stylized American flag prominent on it's hood. I knew what this looked like. Me, in my dark costume not attacking nor being attacked by Lung and Oni Lee. And Lung could say with complete honesty that I had helped her fight off a rival gang.

This was...this was just what I needed tonight. Really.

* * *

Miss Militia left her jeep running idle as she climbed out of it and the pistol at her side transformed with a flash of shaped green light into what I think was a kind of Asian sword, complete with a yellow threaded tassel hanging off the pommel and a dragon's head as the hand guard.

Her "street level" costume was a simple camo uniform tailored to emphasize that she was a woman, a sash with the red, white and blue pattern around her waist and a matching scarf covering the lower half of her face. She had shoulder length dark hair and expressive eyes underneath furrowed eyebrows. She'd always struck me as being personable on her interviews, I could only hope that carried over to real life.

Miss Militia was one of the Superheroes, capital S, part of the largest superhero organization in the world called the Protectorate. Brockton Bay's team was government sponsored, officially 'The Protectorate East-North-East,' and were headquartered in the floating, force-field shrouded island you could see from the Boardwalk. They were also the last corner on the triangle of power between the E88 and Lung.

The reality of it all was that Brockton Bay was in the middle of an arms race between the major parahuman groups, and when that happens, there isn't a lot of room for the little guys. The Merchants had been the first to go. They used to infest the really poor parts of town and were heavy into the drug trade but they had a habit of, well, poking the sleeping dragon.

Said dragon took offense.

And if it wasn't that, it was Nazis. I was sure the only reason the Undersiders lasted this long was because they were good at the smash and grab, but if tonight told me anything, was that they had definitely bitten off more than they could chew. Either they learned or they were gone.

I'd wanted one night before I was forced into a group, one way or another. Just one.

But I got _this_ instead.

Miss Militia approached, nodding politely. "Lung."

"Militia."

I could see faces in the windows, looking out and a few civilians, Asian, trickled onto the street. Lung adopted a particularly lazy posture with not a care in the world that she was beyond half naked in front of a crowd. I assumed modesty was a pipe dream when your powers had the habit of depantsing you. Not like anyone was going to arrest her for public indecency anyway.

Some of the tension bled out of the hero's eyebrows. "We got a disturbance report with the key word being 'fire.' Would you mind telling me what went on here?"

"I told Aswang to keep control of his men, did I not?" Lung commented idly, completely ignoring the hero's question. I didn't get the feeling that it was a rudeness born of disrespect, as strange as it was, more like she was leading up to something.

"Yes," Oni Lee said.

"He already received his warning." Lung pointed at me. "Hachi stopped them from hunting down the Undersiders." There was an alarming grinding sound until I realized it came from my own teeth. This was not the way I wanted to receive credit for my heroics. "I would handle it but his fear is to be caged. I will give him to you."

Miss Militia sighed. "I understand. Where?" Lung stared and she rushed to clarify. "So that we can be there for the pick up to make sure that he..."

"You misunderstand. He will not be moving."

The silence after that was a bit awkward.

Miss Militia coughed once. "I see."

Lung nodded. "And you can tell Armsmaster that he need only ask for a fight and I will give it to him."

"That..." Militia pinched the bridge of her nose. "That really won't be necessary."

"So he would rather provoke me into one."

"He was not trying to..." Militia visibly thought about her next words when Lung's floating flame switched directions. This was actually a lot more cordial of a meeting than I had expected but it also made a depressing amount of sense. It was the exact same thing I had done: Be polite. It really said something when a government sponsored hero used the same survival tactics a complete rookie did. "He's been under a lot of pressure lately. I am sure he meant no offense."

"That is why they send you now."

Militia sighed again. "No comment."

That got an amused snort. Lung held out her hand and Miss Militia drew her sword and placed the handle in the upturned palm. Lung inspected the weapon in silence. She hefted it lightly, bringing the blade up to the mask before handing it back. "The blade needs more flexibility, but better."

The corners of Miss Militia's eyes crinkled and I felt like she was smiling. "Thank you." She cleared her throat and shifted to face me. "Do you mind if I speak with Hachi here?"

My dreams of choosing my own cape name died a fiery death.

Lung waved magnanimously and Militia's eyes crinkled again. "So..."

"I'm not actually ABB," I blurted out immediately.

"Appropriated?" Militia finished for me with a slight laugh to her voice. "You should have seen Vista after she was temporarily recruited."

Vista was the name of a Ward, a junior hero in the Protectorate several years younger than me but the only thing I could think was: Jesus, she even did it to heroes?

"Were you planning on joining the Wards?" Militia sobered, dropping the volume of her voice. I wasn't sure if her efforts meant anything, not when I remembered Lung's amused proclamation while cloaked in darkness that she could _hear._

"Eventually," I admitted. Escaping the stresses of school by throwing myself into a mess of teenage drama, adult oversight and schedules seemed counter productive, but what choice did I have? "I just wanted one night to myself, you know?"

Miss Militia hummed and I was struck by how nice she seemed. Understanding, like I could tell her anything and she wouldn't judge me for it. How much of that was my hero worship and how much of it was her I wasn't sure, but it was a really nice feeling.

"Lung has her eye on you."

I swallowed hard. "I figured."

"Call me at the PHQ," she offered. "If you would like any advice or just to talk, alright? I can make the time." I nodded, not trusting myself to respond around the lump in my throat. Her eyes crinkled happily again. "I only ask that you make an informed decision." She nodded to Lung, turning to walk back to her jeep. "Lung."

"Militia."

"Are you going to make a pitch too?" I said bitterly as the jeep drove away.

"I do not _compete."_ Lung said harshly.

Shit. I backpedaled. "I mean, what would you want with me? I...I control _bugs._ I'm not strong or fast or can build things," I was rambling.

Lung cut me off. "You wish for strength?"

My favorite heroine Alexandria came to mind, invulnerable and physically the strongest cape in the world. At one time I had wanted nothing more than to be like her, tying towels around my neck and pretending to fly. Then I get super powers and not only did it send me to a psychiatric hospital but when I got back to school _nothing_ had changed. Bugs.

"Disappointing."

That _stung._

"I don't understand, why not? I mean, I could barely take care of myself against someone else's pet, what if I had to fight you?" Then I hastily added. "For example."

"Think of something," she said drily. "Flexibility, creativity. The hornet is not a weak creature. Do not trap yourself saying you can't." Her voice turned a bit hollow. "And do not focus on an enemy so closely, you miss the ground washing away beneath your feet. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

She inclined her head to me and it felt like _recognition._ Lung was a cape that could stand next to the Triumvirate. Alexandria. Legend. Eidolon. She was on the TV roughly every three months in some place around the world. On my first night out, Lung knew I existed. That should be terrifying. I couldn't work up the words to respond, my mind spinning in circles but soon I realized I didn't have to say anything. The silence was comfortable. I had to be exhausted out of my mind if I felt this way. It must be at least two in the morning and if I was feeling camaraderie with _Lung_ I really needed sleep.

Oni Lee was first to go, leaving just ash on the wind.

"Do not interfere with my people again."

"Why?" Lung turned back and I took that as a sign to continue. "Why did you say all that? Why did you..." save me, I didn't say.

Lung took two long steps right up to me and reached out. Her hand came down on my shoulder and it was a pulsing heat, seeping all the way through the layers of spider silk and it felt like into my very bones. When she spoke, it was slow, purposeful and it resonated. " _This_ is your springtime."

She dropped her hand and walked away. An old woman on the corner held out silken red robe reverently. Lung took it, they bowed to each other and wrapped it around herself without missing a step. She took the needle out of her hair, spilling it and twirled the metal spike in her fingers absently.

I stood there on the street corner, stunned. My shoulder was still warm as if branded. Marked. I was ashamed to admit, even in the privacy of my own head:

I almost followed her.


	2. Hornet

**Hornet**

* * *

I woke to the muffled sound of the radio in the bathroom. Reaching over to my alarm clock, I turned it around. 6:28. I groaned. Roughly forty five minutes had passed since the last time I had checked. Turns out a broken hand when you had a habit of turning in your sleep did not work out well. I was woken up periodically by the searing pain shooting up my arm.

I had my alarm set for six thirty, but I almost never needed it, because my dad was always in the shower at the same time. Routines defined us but just this once, there was nothing I wanted more than to sleep in. I raised my good hand and placed it on my shoulder. If I concentrated, it was as if I could still feel the warmth.

I laid in bed for a good five minutes before I forced myself to get up. My thigh muscle twinged and I knew a large mottled bruise was decorating my side. My hand had ballooned to twice it's size, the throbbing pain telling me quite clearly that I was going to have to face the music.

I didn't bother changing, just walked down to the kitchen sink to wash my face and then rooted around in the fridge for the orange juice. Screwing open the cap on the carton with only one hand was an ordeal, luckily I got the hang of pouring it into a plastic cup one handed pretty quickly. I was walking to the kitchen table when my dad came downstairs in his bathrobe.

My dad is not what you'd call an attractive man. Thin as a rail with a soft jawline, dark hair that was thinning to the point of being see through on a spot at the back of his head, big green eyes and glasses that magnified those eyes further. An ugly scar trailed across his right cheekbone, making it look sharp. As he entered the kitchen, he looked surprised to see me there. Then his eyes zoomed in on my hand before I could hide it, and his face darkened.

That was the way my dad always seemed to look these days: on the verge of losing his temper. That, and a little defeated.

"What happened?"

"Nightmare," I lied thickly. "I cracked it on the wall, or the bed post. It kept me up."

He bent over my hand and touched it gingerly. I couldn't quite keep the hiss of pain inaudible and he flinched back. "That looks broken." He looked up at me. "Nightmare? Was it..."

"I had to get out." That wasn't technically a lie, I really did need to go out but I knew how he would take it and the niggling feeling of guilt just kept squirming in my gut.

He smiled weakly and kissed the crown of my head. "Want me to call you in? I don't think you can write with it like that."

I nodded in relief. "Please? I'm going to have to get this looked at today, it's killing me."

"The insurance card is on the dresser." He took reluctant steps towards the fridge, like he was afraid if he took his eyes off me I'd break. "I could take today off to drive you there?"

"It's not that far away," I refused the offer and smiled. "Go to work, as long as I don't try to pick up anything I'm fine."

There was the slap of bacon hitting the frying pan. Silence descended and I sipped at my juice. The bacon was sizzling, and maybe burning, before he spoke again.

"You know Gerry?"

That name wasn't ringing any bells, but Dad's voice was a bit tight so I already knew it wasn't going to be good news.

"You met him once or twice when you've visited me at work. Big guy, burly, Black Irish?"

Oh.

"E88?"

"They roughed him up real good," Dad gritted as he rescued the bacon and added french toast to the pan. "His house was completely trashed, I was thinking getting some guys together to help clean it up."

My dad was part of the Dockworkers Association, as the Union spokesperson and head of hiring. With the state of the Docks being what they were, that meant my dad was pretty much in charge of telling everyone that there were no jobs to be had, day after day. Still, he had his contacts and was always looking for legal opportunities.

"Maybe he could move to the Docks," I ventured.

Dad scoffed. "Trade the E88 for ABB?"

"At least he wouldn't have to worry about hate crime then," I said a bit more sharply than I intended.

"Just everything else."

I sighed and bit into my french toast. My Dad and I had a strange relationship and with the whole school thing, it had only gotten stranger. He'd gotten the scar on his face in a minor blow up between the E88 and the ABB at the Docks, just a bunch of hot headed kids with powers or knuckledusters and he'd gotten tagged with a flying piece of rubble trying to drive them off.

He didn't want anything to do with any of the gangs and I knew he blamed the Protectorate just a little for letting it get this bad. I could see where he was coming from. Even after they absorbed half of New Wave, it never seemed like they had enough heroes to really do anything. I haven't told him about my powers because honestly, I wasn't sure how he'd take it. And I certainly wasn't going to tell him about meeting Lung mask to mask.

We lived close enough to the Docks to expect bi monthly visits for protection payments and afterwards every time, without fail, Dad had to go for a walk to cool off. If you followed the rules and stayed out of the heart of ABB territory, you were left alone. Mostly.

It'd been three years since Lung "claimed" the outskirts and Dad was still simmering.

"We're supposed to talk about how the powers thing has influenced our lives in class today." I said quietly.

"Look around," Dad retorted.

We ate in silence.

"You went out for a walk?" Dad said eventually.

I nodded.

"And there wasn't any...trouble?"

"No," I lied. The guilt sprouted legs and started crawling around at my father's concern for me. It was all the more intense because it was so justified. If Lung hadn't decided to get that dog off me, hell everything about Lung in general, if it had gone differently we probably wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "And I had the pepper spray just in case."

His face tightened. "If Kali had been wandering..."

"She wasn't. I'm fine," I nodded at my injured hand. "Except for you know, beating the crap out of myself in my sleep."

He let himself be defused, chuckling, and pointed his syrupy fork at me. "You get that taken care of, young lady."

"I hope I won't need a cast," I frowned. Going to school all taped up would smell like blood in the water and I had absolutely no desire to deal with that.

"You aren't planning to run, are you?"

"No." I gathered my plate and put it in the sink to run water over it. "Going to see if I can get some more sleep." I needed it. And after I saw a doctor, a trip to the library. I put my dishes in the beaten up old dishwasher and filled a plastic sandwich bag with some cold water for my hand. I bent down to give my dad a hug on my way back to my room.

"Taylor, have you been smoking?"

I shook my head.

"Your hair is, uh, burnt. At the ends, there."

I smiled weakly. Lung had been on fire when she knocked the dog off my back. "I dunno, maybe the stove?"

He didn't believe me judging from the look on his face. "Just...be careful, alright?"

"I will." I promised and I would. "I was thinking about hitting the library, get some studying done?"

"I expect you to be home before I am, kiddo."

I could work with that. "Hope today is better."

His answering smile was strained.

I tried not to think about how lost he looked when I collapsed on my bed. I put my hand on my stomach with the cold water bag on top of it. My clock read 6: 52. I sighed and closed my eyes.

When I had opened them again, 9:03.

The nap did nothing but make me feel even more tired, but the hot shower and a cup of coffee my dad had left in the pot woke me up a little. Even so, the fatigue did nothing to disguise how surreal today seemed. Just a matter of hours ago, I'd been in a life and death fight, saved the Undersiders, twice, survived meeting Lung and had even had a chat with Miss Militia. Now here I was, trudging to the nearest bus stop like it was a day like any other.

There were two people already there before me, both Asian but considering one of them was fussing over the elderly woman it felt safe to assume they weren't going to be trouble.

"Hello." I greeted as soon as I was in earshot. Never hurt to polite. I'd learned that last night.

The older woman smiled at me, clutching at a bamboo cane with a sequined purse hanging off her arm. She was wrapped in layers and had chin length hair that had streaks of gray running through it. She murmured something that might have been a hello, her younger companion just gave me a very terse nod. "Jing Wen," she introduced herself and then gave a smiling laugh, pointing at who I assumed was her daughter. "Noriko."

'Noriko' looked like she was somewhere in the mid twenties, maybe thirties if I pushed my estimate and quietly pretty if a bit intense. A small mole was at the end of her left eyebrow and her face was heart shaped. Not cute like Madison's, but thinner with a small mouth and large dark eyes. She wore her hair long and was also one of the few women I met who stood almost dead even with my height.

"Nice to meet you," I tried to say brightly. A yawn almost sabotaged it and Noriko quirked an eyebrow.

"Where?" Jing Wen said.

I waved my hand and she winced in sympathy. "Hospital."

We didn't have to wait long for the bus and I stayed back to make sure the woman with her cane got on. She and Noriko spoke quietly in...Korean? No, Chinese, I recognized some of those words I think. Kind of odd, I thought 'Noriko' was a Japanese name. Before I stepped on, Noriko gasped quietly.

"Your hair..."

My hand flew to the back of my head, terrified that the burnt ends were that easy to see. I was already beginning to regret not spending more time in the bathroom cleaning those up. "The stove," I repeated the lie I'd tried to feed my father. Her other eyebrow rose to join the first. I cringed and rushed up the stairs.

She didn't follow. The doors closed as I sat down and the bus pulled away from the curb.

I felt like I could still feel eyes on me.

* * *

If you looked at Brockton Bay as a patchwork of stellar and squalor, upper class and lower class with no middle ground, then downtown was one of the nice areas. The streets and sidewalks were wide, and that meant that even with skyscrapers in every other lot, there was a great deal of blue overhead. It was always busy, not quite to the point of never sleeping, but the streets were just beginning to fill up with people taking an early lunch break and the sides of the buildings were mostly free of gang markings.

I say mostly because there were a few Asian restaurants that depicted dragons on their signs, but they were different colors, green or gold, or just stylized letters and not something you could really prove. The city had gotten a small wave of immigration for, well obvious reasons I guessed, and in many ways it was like sitting at a table where someone kept moving your glass. You think you know exactly where it is, but it isn't until you reach for it, miss and blink that you realize things have changed.

My stomach growled as I came across a street vendor getting ready for the lunch rush and I dug into my pockets with my good hand. My injured one was in a sling and still numb from the anesthetic. The X – Ray at the ER had revealed a clean and slightly displaced break in two of my...metacarpals? He'd had to set it, thankfully with my hand already numbed up and I was under strict orders to not move it.

I wasn't exactly sure how eating a hot dog with mustard and relish one handed was going to go, but I was hungry enough to risk it.

I sat down on one of the street side benches with my plate.

I ate slowly, taking care not to get relish on myself and just thought about things. It was still hard to believe that last night had really happened. Which I supposed was the point. Escapism wasn't any use if you were always grounded in what was still waiting for you when you got up the next morning. In my case, that was school and after the dumpster, I would have rather clawed my own eyes out than go back.

I was determined not to let them win, but if I felt like I had to escape, I'd already lost.

I didn't like thinking like this.

I finished my hotdog and threw my plate away, scattering a kit of pigeons. The public library was only a few blocks away so I started heading in that direction.

People were trickling into the library with me. A few college students with laptops in their bags and business men and women wanting some quiet during their lunch hour and casually browsing sites they couldn't at their workplaces. I would have included Brockton Bay's biggest and fanciest high school, the nearby Arcadia High, in that generalization, but students spending their lunch breaks at the library was a thing that didn't happen.

The Central Library looked more like a museum or art gallery than anything else, with tall ceilings, pillars and massive pieces of artwork framing the hallways between the major sections of the building. I headed up to the second floor where there were about twenty computers sitting on a couple of flower shaped desks, with dividers creating the "petals" and giving users a bit of privacy.

I sat down and grimaced as I had to peck at the keyboard with one hand. It was a good thing all I really wanted to do was browse, and not write a message. The go-to place for news and discussion on capes was Parahumans Online, or PHO for short. The front page had constant updates on recent, international news featuring capes, groups and events, or to the message boards, which broke down into nearly a hundred sub-boards for specific capes and cities. My first research topic on the wiki was a guilty curiosity: ABB. Specifically, non-Asian capes.

The list was longer than I thought it would be.

There were names I wasn't familiar with but there were a couple I did know. Parian used to be a fashion designer rogue but some kind of power clash PHO wasn't clear on between her and Kali ended with the former forcibly inducted. That made me feel a bit queasy but I pressed on. Uber was a name my gut expected but my head was still surprised by.

Uber and Leet had been a dynamic duo, running their web shows and thumbing their noses at authority. Empire happened. They'd dropped off the radar for a few months and now Uber has resurfaced, alone. The implications weren't pleasant.

On an article brimming with "citation needed" and "evidence please" tags was Panacea's ABB page. A lot of it sounded like circumstantial evidence, claims of preferential treatment or suspicions surrounding her reasons for not joining her sister in the Wards. These people seemed to forget that her father retired and her mother was in a coma. Panacea can't do brains. That kind of helplessness could suck the motivation from anyone.

I couldn't help but to feel sorry for her. A lot of her troubles just seemed to hit too close to home.

I kept searching, going over the absolute ridiculous number of Empire capes. They had to be getting them out of town, drawing in resources from sympathetic groups because I didn't want to believe there were that many Brockton Bay bigot natives. Diamond, Kafka, Frederick, I've never even heard of Regent, crawling out of the woodwork.

No wonder my dad looked so defeated. Something has to give.

I navigated to the forums and started searching under villain gangs: ABB. At the top of the page was a blanket warning in bright red from Tin_Mother about Lung pictures. Immediately underneath was a pinned 532 page argument about that very warning.

Not surprised.

I skimmed the titles of the most recent threads. The ABB was a controversial topic to put it lightly. Just as hero worship was a thing, villain worship was too. Everything from Slaughterhouse Nine psychos to "local favorites." From what I've heard of Kaiser, the leader of the E88, he had a high class gentleman image that meshed with his knightly costume, befitting an ideal, no matter how disgusting it was.

Lung; see warning.

One message, just about to drop off the first page was simply titled, 'Bug.'

My gut churned as I clicked it. What I got was brief.

 **Subject:** Bug

Owe you one. Sorry about the dog. Would like to repay the favor. Meet?

Send a message,

Tt.

The post was followed by two pages of people commenting. Three people suggested it had something to do with the 'bonfire' last night, while half a dozen more people decried them as tinfoil hats, 's term for conspiracy theorists.

It was meaningful though. The group I'd saved, the Undersiders, had found a way to get in contact with me. I thought hard about what I wanted to say back, a thousand and one questions bursting to the forefront of my mind. The loudest was: Lung. Are you stupid? But that didn't seem to be very diplomatic.

I chose to compose a private message, finding 'Tt' in the drop down menu and started typing very slowly, pecking away.

 **Subject:** Re:Bug

Bug here. Why should I?

I hit send.

The reply came only two or three minutes later. It was fast enough that I imagined she must have been either waiting for a reply, or just spent a lot of time online. Either way, the answer sent a shiver up my spine.

 **Subject:** re:Bug

Lung.

Just want to talk. Don't come dressed up if you don't want her to know. I won't either.

Boardwalk, boat statue in an hour?

You need my help.

I leaned back in my chair and swallowed the acidic taste of anger. I wouldn't say that I inherited my dad's temper, but I did inherit his pride. I found it hard to think much beyond: 'I need your help? Who saved who yesterday?' How could someone that nearly got charbroiled _by_ Lung help me _with_ Lung?

Why did I need help in the first place?

And don't even get me started on that fucking dog.

The screensaver came up while I stared at the monitor trying to get my thoughts in order. I didn't think someone who 'owed me one' was hostile, at least not for a very good reason that I couldn't think of at the moment. On top of the public meeting place, that pretty much eliminated the chances of this being a trap. Which meant that it really couldn't hurt to at least listen to what 'Tt' had to say.

Or I could spend the rest of the afternoon killing time as best I could with a broken hand.

I sighed.

 **Subject** : Re:Bug

See you in an hour.

I logged off the computer and exited the library and very carefully did not think about how much I could come to regret this. Showing up in costume on the Boardwalk was just asking for trouble considering it was A) near the Protectorate building and I was meeting with a villain and B) would have little to no chance of not attracting attention. That didn't mean I had to be stupid about it.

I caught the bus from the library to my house and struggled to put on key pieces of my costume underneath my clothes. Most of the armor panels of my costume were separate pieces, held in place by straps that ran into slits in the fabric of the costume. Not all of them were though. I'd integrated some of the armor into the bodysuit itself, narrower rigid sections. If it came down to it, I would rather be capable of surviving having a knife pulled on me.

I checked myself in the mirror before I left and grimaced. Messy ponytail, large sweatshirt with a sailboat on the front, baggy jeans and a pair of Dad's sneakers. All I needed was a drawn hoodie and then I would really look like I had something to hide. I left a note for my Dad in case I ran over time along with an explanation of where his sneakers had vanished to and headed out.

The Boardwalk was a long stretch along the beach of the Bay, stuffed to the gills with tourist traps and restaurants. The boat statue Tt mentioned was a stupid little bronze cargo ship mounted on a painted wooden pole. It had a worn plaque detailing how long Brockton Bay had been an active port but often went over looked now, graffiti, dents and scratches on it. There were dozens of life sized examples of what the Bay had been laying in a heap like trash at the Boat Graveyard.

There weren't a whole lot of people around given that it was in the middle of the day so I sat on one of the benches and sent a dozen flies to scout. I closed my eyes, braced myself and focused on what they were sensing.

Bugs sense things in a very different way than we do. More than that, they sense and process things at a very different speed. They didn't have any of the ingrained cues our minds did when it came to recognizing faces, scents or colors. The rush of awareness felt like breaking free of my head. The world warped into broken pieces of light and dark, vibrations, tastes and instincts that weren't my own. Multiply that by a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, and it would bury me.

Happened before.

The monochrome light and dark started to form a coherent image, kind of. More like a kaleidoscope of cobbled together angles and viewpoints and a mess of sound that was still a bit painful to focus on. My preferred method of sensing things through my bugs was touch. Where they were, if they were still, moving or was being moved the same way I know where my hand is.

My fingertips were ghosting over the people on the Boardwalk and most of them had no idea. By the boat statue a shorter blurred figure with an ant on her shoe turned towards one of my flies.

" **b** U _G **?**_ "

I flinched and pulled back.

Found her.

I licked my dry lips. Tt's power must be mental of some kind if she was able to pick out my presence from a fly which was really giving me misgivings about this whole thing. It may sound like a terrible thing to say, but I did not relish the idea of talking to someone parahumanly smarter than me.

I approached her carefully, taking her in with my own two eyes. Tt had dirty blonde hair tied back in a loose braid with freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and a somber expression on her face. She wore a plain blue T shirt underneath a denim jacket and matching knee length skirt with white sneakers. Her eyes were a tired bottle-glass green that soon found mine.

Her lips quirked.

"And she arrives," Tt said simply. I opened my mouth. "It's just me," she cut me off. "Lung hit Grue pretty damn hard, swelling in his spine. Spitfire wants nothing to do with you. And Bitch..." She smiled weakly. "Yeah, no."

"You could have died," I said sharply.

"In our defense, we could have taken a bunch of angry gangbangers." She shrugged. "And then Lung would have gotten pissed, so yeah. Did I mention I owe you one?" She held out her hand. "Call me Lisa."

I took it. "Bug."

Her smile turned a bit sardonic. "Smart. But that doesn't change that you're here, and so am I. You know my face, and I know yours. Dangerous," she said. "But not as dangerous as what you're about to get mixed up in."

I frowned, keeping the small sand flies at the beach hovering near people's ear so I could judge who could hear us and who couldn't. It made a tiny headache start to blossom between my eyes but a migraine was worth it. "Enlighten me."

"Last night was your first time out, wasn't it?" As I struggled not to react, her small smile grew into a smug, vulpine grin. "You tangle with the ABB, the thugs we heard were coming for us. Lung catches you red handed but you don't run. You're not E88 so she makes you an offer you can't refuse. Am I warm?"

"How do you -" I bit my tongue.

"I'm psychic. The point is," Lisa sobered, looking back out over the bay. "She's got your number now and soon she's going to start ringing it. She'll trap you here."

I frowned and leaned against the railing. "Trap me? I live here."

"This city, you see it?" She nodded back towards the Boardwalk. "It's about to blow like a volcano. The person I work for, independent, I know not many of those, small time, keeps under the radar. He wants this city." She turned her head and scanned the crowd with what seemed to be an uncharacteristically serious look on her face. But she didn't find what she was looking for and her smile resurfaced. "But he can't have it when half of it's Empire and the other half has a dragon sitting on it. What do you do when you've got two players too big for you to handle, that hate each other?"

I knew what I would do. "Play them off each other."

"And make sure there are no victors, yes. Everything is going to get caught up in that."

I could imagine it. Fighting breaking out in the streets as both groups made the push to wipe the other out. And when I considered the sheer amount of parahumans involved, something cold formed in my stomach. I'd seen Lung on TV before, during Canberra, towering over the buildings like they were made of matchsticks. Brockton Bay wouldn't survive that.

My hands balled into tight fists. "Why aren't you telling the Protectorate?"

"Don't you think they already know?" She rolled her eyes. "Come on now. Villains and stable don't exactly go together. To them, all out gang warfare is inevitable, its only a matter of when." She waved her hand at the floating Protectorate building out on the bay. "Gotta give it to the heroes, they've always been the big picture type, they just can't do anything about it."

I wanted to defend them, but choked on the words. There were more villains than heroes. Fact. A lot more. And Lisa's employer was going to take advantage of that, right underneath everyone's noses. I remembered Lung's advice: _Do not focus on an enemy so closely, you miss the ground washing away beneath your feet._

Did she know?

A far more grim possibility occurred to me right after that thought. What if she didn't?

"I know that face. That's the 'I have a crazy, stupid idea - ." Her expression shifted as she suddenly paused. "Lung, really?"

"It's not stupid if it works," I said a bit defensively. "But if it's going to work I'm going to need you to answer some questions."

Lisa stared at me, studying me, before her smile returned full force. "I did say I owe you one," she commented drily. She leaned over the railing. "What do you want to know?"

I decided to start with the most immediate question. "Do you think Lung knows?"

Lisa's lips pursed. "She can't expect the status quo to remain forever but she's sure she'll win. That's Lung for you."

"Will she?" I asked quietly.

Lisa looked me dead in the eye for a moment. "Made an impression?" She looked down at the water. "She gets stronger over time. High powered rifle shot when she doesn't expect it? She dies like everyone else." She looked away. "Your next question is probably going to be, what were we thinking getting her attention, right?"

'Something like that."

She shrugged. "Being expendable is one of the risks of the trade."

A sharp thread of horror wove through me. "Why the hell are you working for him then?"

"Don't have a choice, personally. And that's something you're going to run out of soon, you know. Choices." She looked at me again. "You know once Lung thinks she has you, she's not letting go." A shudder went through her and she pulled her jacket tighter around her. "Fuck," she swore quietly. I reached for her and she pulled back.

"What's wrong?"

"Caffeine withdrawal," she said unconvincingly. "Look, you do what you think you have to. I'll," she rubbed at her face. "I'll try to put a time frame on it." She straightened, tapping the rail thoughtfully with her index fingers, before giving me a small smile and shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. "I was hoping I could convince you to book it out of town. Don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"It's a good thing you're doing." I tried to inject as much encouragement into my voice as I could, taking my cues from my memories of Miss Militia last night.

She laughed. "Maybe. See you around, hero."

"Taylor," I said.

"Taylor."

Her answering grin was relieved.

* * *

"Dad? I'm home." I called as soon as I opened the door. There was no answer. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted right now was to worry my father. When he was concerned, Danny Hebert was like a helicopter with searchlights, never letting me out of his sight and itching to blow the horn if I so much as turned a corner he wasn't expecting. It was nice that he cared, but if I was going to pull off being a cape, I needed space.

I headed up to my room and stripped out of my costume's bodysuit as quickly as I could manage it. I put my borrowed sneakers back where I had found them and shoved my costume back into the depths of my closet. My stomach rumbled, declaring that a single hotdog wasn't enough to keep it satisfied.

I hooked my arm back into the sling and headed downstairs.

I pulled some luncheon meat out of the fridge numbly and it took me at least three minutes to tie up the bread bag after I was done with it. I was in the middle of making my sandwich, spreading a bit of mayo on one of the slices before I noticed that my hand was shaking.

 _"Tinkertech of some kind."_ she had said, pointing out the small horizontal scar at the base of her head. She hadn't known exactly what it was, ranging from bomb to tracker, to things more sinister. _"At times I think it's a bluff, but other times I am so damn sure he's about to activate it that I...just can't."_ She had similar scars all along her spine.

 _"I'm not the only one."_

I didn't think it was possible to hate someone I didn't even know so much.

I thought of myself as a hero but the spike of loathing I had felt for Lisa's "employer" had scared me. Heroes weren't supposed to contemplate murdering someone in cold blood, they were supposed to be more. But if I had a gun in my hand and came face to face with 'Coil' I couldn't say I wouldn't take the shot. I suppose it said something about me that his aims for the city just made me feel morally obligated to stop it, but when it came to one friendly face I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands.

Maybe it just made me human.

I had questioned her, lightly, if it was really caffeine she was suffering withdrawal from. The look of self loathing that had appeared on her face was one I'd seen in the mirror, and at times on my father's expression. The one said that said 'Why am I so weak?'

I'd hugged her. She didn't pull away then.

 _"You're a real bleeding heart, aren't you? Be careful with that."_

Until Lisa had more information, an idea of how to get free without mutual destruction or leaving someone behind, we were going to concentrate more on keeping the lid on gang violence.

I had an informant.

I caught myself smiling. And maybe a friend?

The distinctive rumble of Dad's car came into hearing and I hurried up on the sandwich, popping a few slices into the toaster in case he was hungry as well. I looked down at my second lunch. Still needed a bit of something. I dove back into the fridge and was pulling out the tomatoes when Dad walked in through the door.

I knew by the slump to his shoulders that today hadn't been better.

I chewed on my lip when the toast popped back up. Dad sunk into a chair at the table, placing his briefcase on it.

"What's the damage?"

Dad opened his case and shuffled through some of the papers. "Gray showed up today, thanked me for my time. He'd found work." He shook his head tiredly. "Wouldn't say where."

"Mayo?"

"Please."

I made his sandwich in the quiet. Dad always took 'losses' personally and I couldn't blame him. Spend day after day telling people you cared about that you had no work for them, only to watch them get scooped up by a gang while your hands were tied.

"It's probably nothing serious, you know."

He scoffed.

Then there was the little thing of Dad's black and white morality. Guilty by association, even if everything was above the table. I was far from asking him to let go of his misgivings, but preemptively judging someone before they even did anything? Still, I knew Dad was the norm, not the exception. Maybe all the weirdness about our views on the gangs were my fault. I couldn't apologize for it.

When the people you least expect to lend a helping hand, do, it tends to change your world view a bit. I still don't know if it was for the better, or worse.

"That's how they get you," Dad said. "It's harmless at first but before you know it, you're in too deep to get out."

I handed him his sandwich and sat down with mine. He sounded like those posters and public announcements hung up on the walls at Winslow High, about what to do if you felt you were being targeted by one gang or another. It emphasized getting help as soon as possible, even if they didn't ask for anything illegal. Both the Empire and ABB had legitimate enterprises and that was before considering the civilian identity of any of their capes.

Lisa had advised telling the Protectorate, Miss Militia in particular before I carry out my 'crazy, stupid plan.'

 _"Soldier girl and Lung have a bit of an understanding. I'm going to guess it has something to do with the high powered rifle I mentioned. It's always the nice ones, I swear."_

"He lives on the Docks?" I asked before I bit into my ham and tomato.

Dad grimaced. "Yeah."

My first thought was something along the lines of 'He'd be safe at least.' ABB didn't harm their own. I was less sure about the Empire, but it just seemed like common sense. And was giving me the feeling that the entire city was being Stockholmed into submission.

"I know that look." Dad peered at me over his glasses. "We've talked about this."

We had, when a gas main in a decaying part of town had ruptured a little over a year ago. I'd been at school, miserable doesn't really need to be said, when it had happened. Dad hadn't come home until very late that night, mostly because the evacuation was being spearheaded by ABB. He couldn't do less than them. I'd asked why he didn't just let them help.

'Good deeds don't erase bad' he had said. Troubles at school, friendless and lived in claimed territory. I think he was afraid of losing me to a gang.

Sorry, Dad.

"I wasn't going to say anything," I said.

He let it go with a sigh. I finished my sandwich.

"I love you, Taylor," he murmured before I hit the door out of the kitchen.

I blinked rapidly. My eyes prickled. "Love you too, Dad."

It was around seven when I finished putting on my bodysuit underneath my clothes again. It wasn't that I expected to need it, but I had liked having extra security. It didn't do anything for my head, or sufficient concussive force as last night had shown me but it was much better than nothing.

I came downstairs, finding Dad in the kitchen where the smell of spaghetti sauce and garlic was overpowering. He saw me in my sweats and sling and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Taylor..."

"It's Monday," I reminded him. "And early." I jiggled the bulging pocket on my pants. "I've got my pepper spray. Just a little ways then back."

He'd lost this argument three months ago and he wasn't going to win it today.

He must have been able to tell from the stubborn look on my face because he nodded and let me go.

My evening walks had originally started from a severe case of cabin fever and maybe more than a little rebellion at how tightly Dad seemed to cling to me. Not something I'm proud of, he'd been worried sick the first time I'd disappeared and didn't come back until dinner. I ran in the mornings so I could try to get into better shape for my cape career, so while strictly speaking I didn't need go out, I wanted to.

Bao's group patrolled Mondays.

The ABB had a 'neighborhood watch' of their territory. Most of the time it was just normal people wearing the distinctive dragon icons and colors of whatever sub group they were in. Late at night, on a bad roll of the dice, you might meet a cape instead. It wasn't _called_ a curfew, but it might as well be one. The fear alone probably kept most inside.

Just moving from one block to the next, you could see the change in the area. As I made my way into the Docks, the quality of my surroundings began to get a bit schizophrenic. Old and new mashed together with signs of new construction or repair. A few old men were sitting out on the front step of an old building smoking pipes and arguing over a board game I didn't know the name of. The empty warehouses had long been converted with guards standing out front, and the strains of music reached my ears.

As I walked, I was using my powers to draw a small swarm together, but kept most of them out of the way. Moving just over the nearby rooftops or skirting behind the buildings. It was mostly for practice in stealth, dedicating just enough attention to tell where there was light and not trip over my own two feet.

It was when I was close enough to see the cranes rusting from disuse and the 'skyline' of warehouses along the Bay that I saw them, smoking against a forklift.

That's what Lê Công Bao had been doing that day, sneaking out of school for a smoke when he heard me in the dumpster. He could have left me there. I would never forget the jeers of 'It's Hebert!' and someone kicking the metal side. But Bao got the janitor, a gang member who spent more time out of school than in class, doing what the teachers didn't.

Story of my life.

"Hebert!" Bao waved me over, wearing his dragon scarf and camo jacket with jeans. He was a year older than me. His hair was cut short with a styled shaved area of flames on the left side of his head. I wouldn't say we were friends but he wasn't an enemy and listening to him joking with the other members of his group made me feel less alone. God, I was pathetic. "You weren't in cla- " The muscles on his jaw rippled and I remembered my broken hand. "They fucking with you again?"

The urge to say yes burned.

"No, it was an accident."

He eyed me disbelievingly, but shrugged. "If you say so." He pointed out new faces. "Neal, Takeo, Bun Ma and her brother Chai Son."

Neal was tall, I estimated him to be in his early twenties and the best dressed of them, looking like he had just come home from work with nice slacks and his tie hanging loose around his neck. Takeo was younger wearing a wifebeater, his dragon handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. His arms had sharp muscle definition and sprawling tatoos. Bun Ma and her brother just had T shirts and jeans, my age but I couldn't remember them from school. Arcadia, maybe?

I stared at them and they stared back.

"Hi?" I tried.

Some of the 'old hats' on the forklift chuckled and waved their cigs but the silence afterward quickly got very awkward. Bao's palm met his face while his other hand reached out to swat 'Takeo' over the head. "Stop staring. Christ."

"But she's not - "

Bao hit him again. "Who cares? She's cool, quit it."

"Just," I sighed. "Pretend I'm not here."

I sat on the curb, mentally keeping track of time. Slowly, they started talking again, weaving in and out of English and at times breaking out in laughter. I snuck bugs onto the clothes of everyone in the group and let the chatter wash over me. It didn't matter if I couldn't understand them. I was being left alone.

Bao stamped out his cig and turned to me. "Walk with us?"

I swallowed. This was usually the time I headed back, but I could barely stop myself from leaping at the invitation. "Is that okay?"

He looked around and no one protested. "Sure. Come on."

The group split into three. I got up and wiped my clammy palms on my sweat pants. I was going to be bit late for dinner. Bao's group made a loop towards the Boardwalk before coming back, I could probably split from them there. But more importantly...

It was during a short lull in the conversation that I asked the question I had come for.

"How would I get in contact with Lung?"

"Youuuu," his voice cracked an octave higher. He coughed. "You probably don't want to do that? I mean, you don't just demand her attention."

I bit my lip. I was afraid of that.

"Thinking of joining or something?" He waved his scarf at me.

It was red, with a gold dragon stitched into it and Chinese characters lining the bottom. It's eyes glittered menacingly as it looked at me.

"Maybe."

"I'll vouch for you." Bao grinned. "We take care of our own. You won't regret it."

I wasn't naive enough to believe that.

I was calling Miss Militia tomorrow.


	3. Interlude, Miss Militia

**Interlude, Miss Militia**

* * *

The first time Hannah spoke to Lung was in a high school gym in Beaumont, Texas.

The basketball court still had the bright blue and white streamers hanging from the ceiling. A large banner slung between the folded up basketball hoops proclaimed 'Go Panthers!' in blocky lettering. A large wooden plaque covered in burnished bronze nameplate was stapled high on the far side of the room, and underneath it a multi-tiered trophy shelf complete with pictures of smiling teens dressed in football and basketball jerseys. She wondered how many of those children made it to the shelter before the earthquakes came.

The showers and locker rooms were closed off with small cubicles. Off white cloth walls did very little to quiet the sounds of a few curses or pained hisses from wounded within. Average people in bland hospital scrubs shuffled around carrying clipboards, dragging IV stands, hugging bundles of blankets. Getting access to a real hospital during an Endbringer fight was a luxury. Sometimes the location was just bad, other times the hospital was just too small or too busy with other cases to shove an odd hundred capes in. Too few doctors for the demand meant there were overwhelmed interns, anxious volunteers and stressed nurse practitioners rushing around.

The half court was populated with folding lunch tables and tired heroes nursing instant coffee. The cafeteria half these tables had been stolen from housed the recuperating villains. Four hours ago this had all been wires and cord, filled with nervous energy and the resignation of a hospital chapel as tremors rumbled beneath their feet.

Dauntless murmured in his sleep, head buried in the crook of his arms. He survived his first encounter with the Hero Killer. The battle lasted a little over 3 hours. The nightmares would last months. Velocity was fetching chocolate bars from the vending machine one handed until there was an opening to have his arm grown back. Armsmaster was still critical.

They lived. All that mattered.

A ragged, subdued cheer went up and she looked. Alexandria nodded imperiously before turning back to talk quietly the three around her. Beside the Triumvirate and running her right hand through dark hair in baggy grey sweats was Lung.

Standard practice was to handcuff villains to protect them and protect others from them. That worked for most, but like Alexandria, Eidolon and Legend, a simple construct of steel wouldn't be enough to hold the Japanese villain. A thick band of black metal was clamped across her eyes with a single LED above her ear shining green. What could be seen of the rest of her face was pale skin, a delicate chin and small mouth.

When it turned red, if – if it turned red, the band would explode with enough heat and force to liquefy the woman's brain. Alexandria stood by carefully, never letting Lung leave her sight.

"Snickers for you!" It made a loud clatter as Robin dumped it on the table. His empty sleeve drew her eyes and he flashed a wry grin as he nudged Jason awake. "Butterfinger, yeah?" The granola bar was for Colin. Robin flopped into his seat, tearing into his skittles bag with his teeth.

She took a gulp of her coffee. It was bitter and burned her throat.

"We're alive," Robin toasted with his skittles bag. "Thank fucking God."

 _A wave of superheated air, crackle of ozone and sparking with lightning. The dragon roars as the left side of its body ceases to exist. It falls but before it hits the ground it is whole once again. It twists instead, curling around Behemoth's legs. "BLASTERS" comes the call over her arm band and she takes aim._

 _She expects the recoil, dislocating the shoulder with a wet pop. The dragon's right hand vanishes in a pulp of blood and bone and she winces, but underneath she had burned a bleeding crater in the Hero Killer's flank._

 _The dragon readjusts and the call comes again. She ignored her shoulder. She couldn't ignore the searing lightning Behemoth threw her way._

"- a few months of peace too much to ask for?" Robin was saying as she came out of the memory. "Villians sitting fucking pretty in the Bay while we're here. The Empire – "

"We'll have a bit," Jason said. "No one wants to fight Lung now."

Robin paused, blue skittle hanging on his bottom lip.

" _True."_

Nothing about Lung made sense to her. Villains like that were selfish and self-serving. The number of criminals that participated in Endbringer battles around the world could be counted on both hands, and most of them only started after Lung resurfaced for Leviathan in Seattle, 2003. Every three months since then, without fail, Lung had been there. Why?

Even now, Alexandria was sitting rigidly on the top of a table, one foot on the round plastic seat as she watched over the room. Lung sat on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the heroine's hanging leg.

Another bitter sip and Hannah stood up. "Be right back."

She threaded her way towards Alexandria keenly feeling the loss of her star spangled bandana that usually covered her face. The two were talking in tones just quiet enough not to disturb but not so quiet as to seem like they were concealing the conversation.

" - ate wearing this thing."

"Should have thought of that before you decided to take on all of East-North-East," Alexandria told Lung clinically.

"Don't you trust me?"

No, Hannah thought even as Alexandria's lips twisted sardonically. "About as far as I can throw you." And then her voice turned to steel. "And no further."

She stopped at the end of the table Alexandria was sitting on and politely rapped her knuckles on it twice. Even with no visible allowances for eyesight in her black helmet, Alexandria instantly recognized her.

"Miss Militia," she said warmly. Lung's head turned. "Is there something you wished to discuss?"

She tried to smile back. She wasn't sure if she managed it. "I have a question for Lung."

"Oh?" Lung murmured.

"Why?" Elaborate, Hannah. "Behemoth. Leviathan – " Lung's lips tightened. The island of Kyushu had sunk, she recalled. Just the peaks of the skyscrapers were above the waves now. How old had Lung been then? Young, her mind said. Young. "Simurgh. Why do you do it?"

"Tch." Lung looked down, then back up. Her accent was thick. "Because I can."

 _She had a gun in her hand. She didn't know how, where it came from. But her fingers curled around the handle. It was heavy. The soldier behind her barked, time running out. Keep walking. Keep walking. She might die. Like the others, legs blown off. Fallen down holes onto sharp spikes. Crushed._

 _But she had a gun. She didn't have to die taking that step._

 _She turned, bringing up the gun. She knew how to hold it, how to aim. She pulled the trigger –_

Hannah nodded. "Fair enough."

* * *

The air was thick with an acrid smoke, the kind of stench that came with burning chemicals, plastics and rubbers. The thick plumes wafting out of the windows were discolored; white, green, orange. Brick and mortar didn't burn well, but the wallpaper and old furniture fed the flames eating at the drug labs. She buried her nose in the fabric of the bandana masking her face, grimacing as she picked her way over the guts of a broken down car. She huffed slightly, measured breathing as she squinted through the haze.

On the side of the building was the all too familiar graffiti sign: a crimson dragon.

"ABB," she sighed.

 _"Repeat that?"_ Dauntless' voice crackled over her ear bud.

She breathed in deep. Through the fabric, the air was just slightly tinged with something sickly sweet. There were mounds of fine dirt or ash in the street, wisps blowing off the top by a small breeze. Something in her stomach turned as she looked around. Doors torn from their hinges. Windows smashed. There were blood stains on the pavement. No bodies.

"The target of this attack was the drug labs and caches," she said, curling her fingers around the KA-BAR knife. Its handle felt like carved wood and it fit perfectly. "Fresh ABB tags on the buildings. No sign of original occupants."

 _"A purge."_

Brockton Bay had seen the rise and fall of several villainous groups. The Allfather's Empire 88 shattered with his death and that of Iron Rain, only to rise again under his son Kaiser. Marquis' slow decline as a power until a local vigilante group confronted him. This city had been visited by the Slaughterhouse Nine. The Teeth crushed. The Merchants were just the latest.

This could have been them, the Protectorate. Hannah vividly remembered the silver scaled reptilian creature looming over the buildings, the scream of the Endbringer alarms, and balls of flickering flame choking the air like a swarm of fireflies. The roar of triumph and wet heat of fire vaporizing her lower right arm.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of a Desert Eagle pistol. The smell of burning flesh always woke her up from that memory.

 _"Careful,"_ Dauntless said suddenly. Obediently, she stopped. _"You've got company ahead, give me a moment to ID."_

The mounds of ash were bothering her. Some of them were tall, others long. They spoke of something being burnt cleanly and totally so that not even coals remained. Lung could do it, were she so inclined. Hannah hooked her bowie knife in its holster as she bent down and trailed a finger through the fine grit.

No bodies, she thought.

 _"Shi – Militia, its Lung."_

"Where?"

 _"Half a block north of yo – what are you doing?"_

Her palms stung as she hauled herself up, the soles of her boots scraping the brick. She took a short, fortifying breath as she eyeballed the maintenance ladder. She could make that.

 _"Militia, don't engage!"_ She imagined him pinwheeling his arms frantically in the air above. _"Don't fucking engage, Jesus Christ!"_

The outdoor patio was covered in trash. Beer cans, used syringes, strips of aluminum foil streaked with burnt residue, stained and dirty mattresses hid behind chipped and faded wooden trellis. She crossed slowly, careful not to make too much noise on her way to the large, beige fuse boxes on the roof. She hefted the weight in her hands, getting a feel for it, testing. She lifted it and peered down the scope.

Wind blowing east, she noted and shifted.

"Movement?"

Dauntless might have responded, but she already saw her mark.

In a deep red kimono that almost but not quite hid the bloodstains. Barefoot and metal dragon mask on her face coming out of a warehouse on fire.

 _Take the shot._

The crosshairs aligned. A slight adjustment for bullet trajectory and wind would be all it would take. She saw a red headed girl with dead eyes, bleeding from marks on her face and neck. She pulled the trigger.

It missed, going wide to pulverize the corner of the building. It rained brick dust and chunks of concrete.

Lung stopped with a slight flinch. Her masked face slinging around and up. Hannah breathed, and pried her finger from the trigger and lowered the gun. For several long moments, villain and hero just stared at each other.

 _Just one shot, with the right gun._

Lung nodded, and deliberately turned on her heel to show her back.

Message delivered.

* * *

Hannah sighed as she pushed open the door to the briefing room, a few minutes early as usual. Colin was already there, also as usual. She smothered the fond, exasperated smile at the bags under his eyes and barely acceptable beard as he scribbled in a notebook. "You worked too hard and forgot to sleep again, Colin?"

"My earliest estimate for the new tranquilizer was two weeks." He offered as if it was an explanation. It almost was. "I can have it done in eight days."

"If you skip out on sleep? I don't doubt it." She sat down next to him. "But exhausting yourself – "

"Dragon is checking over my work for any errors," he countered. "It'll have to be administered in Lung's earlier stages, but it should shut down her regeneration. This could work."

The ABB was one problem of many in the Bay. "And the Empire?"

His frown deepened before he sighed. He set down his pen and rubbed at his eyes before grabbing his mug of steaming black coffee off the table. "Working on it."

She smiled and tapped the drawings on his notebook. "So I see."

The door opened and admitted Sarah Pelham out of costume, wearing a casual blue sweater and slacks. "Good morning," she said a bit hesitantly. Hannah smiled back reassuringly.

Lady Photon had all the courage and presence of a "golden age" superhero but without the gradient star burst shining on her chest, the woman seemed a bit lost and unsure. New Wave, the public superhero group had been as much of her identity as her powers were. Losing her husband and sister had been just shy of devastating but she was holding on. Time didn't heal all wounds, but eventually, it would clot.

Assault and Battery trickled in after her, teasing each other, followed by Dauntless nursing a cup of coffee, black from the smell of it, and Triumph yawning. The newest addition to the Protectorate wasn't due to attend college until this fall, but he wasn't slacking off, cramming in extra training and picking up late night console shifts.

"Alright, alright, let me guess." Assault threw himself into a chair. "Lung."

Hannah grimaced. "Yes."

The door opened and Director Emily Piggot walked in slowly. Her bob cut was dyed blonde with mousy brown roots showing. She shuffled to the head of the table and placed a manilla folder stuffed to bursting with papers on the table with a loud slap. They all watched her silently as she pulled out the chair and sat down.

"Miss Militia," she began blandly. "You responded to a disturbance report last night, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." She'd typed up her report during the night but these meetings in the morning for debriefing was a quick way to get everyone caught up with the latest news. The old system of passing it up the chain and waiting for it to trickle back down simply didn't work anymore. "Triumph," she nodded at the young man. "Was on console when we got the warning."

"Fire was the key word," he added. "I made the call to send her instead of Dauntless."

Piggot's watery blue eyes found her own. "And?"

"The Undersiders." A small, little known gang. Minor crimes and misdemeanors. Seemed to be more interested in nipping at the outskirts of the Empire's territory. Until last night. "Did something that set Aswang off."

"Aswang," Assault cut in. "Not Lung?"

"Possibly Lung," she allowed. "But how she put it, she was unconcerned, or didn't think it important." That didn't mean the Undersiders had been safe. Lung didn't suffer even the smallest slights lightly. "Of more importance was that Aswang disobeyed her."

Piggot huffed in morbid amusement. "Naturally."

Aswang's fear was to be caged, and he wouldn't be moving. It was in the report, as long as Piggot knew she didn't feel the need to let everyone in on the deal. "She appropriated a new parahuman. She called the girl 'Hachi' but she denied being part of the ABB. Right place at the right time recruitment?"

Piggot nodded, flicking through her papers. "And her powers?"

"Her costume looked very well made and designed to resemble the carapace of an insect." A bit unfinished, a few openings for armor and hastily painted over but the material was high quality. Silken. "I'm afraid I don't have details."

Piggot sighed and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. "But you made contact and she's not officially ABB, yet." She opened the folder. "At times I can't help but wish Lung was more of a violent thug so we could justify more extreme measures."

"Endbringers," Dauntless said quietly.

"So she's a useful criminal," Piggot said dismissively. "Anything on the Empire?"

Sarah Pelham shook her head. "They've been relatively quiet but given the timing?" She drummed fingers on the table. "There might be some truth to the rumor of dissent in the ranks. _"Purity,"_ the name was spit with venom. "She hasn't resurfaced."

"No news is good news as far as I'm concerned. Back to the Undersiders, what is the problem with this picture?"

"Small time independent group poking the ABB," Battery said immediately with the air of someone putting together the pieces. "Part of the smash and grab routine is picking good targets."

Assault picked up the thread. "Lung is a terrible target."

"By all accounts, the Undersiders are all teenagers," Hannah pointed out. "Not experienced criminals."

Assault threw up his hands. "That's even worse!"

Colin raised his head from his notebook. "They have a backer. It's the only thing that makes sense. Look at their activities until now. They are runners, not fighters."

The problem with the backer theory, Hannah knew, was that there just wasn't that many independent groups left in Brockton Bay. Amy Dallon, formerly Panacea of New Wave and Sarah's neice, was pretty much the only rogue left and even that was tainted by her ties to Lung.

"Coil?" She asked.

Piggot frowned. "My first instinct is 'too small time' but we don't have the luxury of dismissing him or her just yet. Anyone coming _in_ to this city with the Empire and ABB already here is either confident or stupid." Piggot's frown darkened. "And he's lasted too long to be stupid. This city is a powder keg and it _will_ blow. We need to be ready when it happens."

There were nods all around the table.

"Militia, let the wards know to keep an eye out for this 'Hachi.' With any luck, Lung hasn't got her claws in this one. Now we've got a budget increase coming down the pipeline and we're starting to look at possibilities for transfers from Boston and New York..."

Much later, Hannah walked into the Wards' common room, immediately spotting Missy Biron hunched over a textbook, chewing on her pencil as 'Hanabi,' Kaoru Watanabe turned the pages of a novel in a bean bag seat that had been dragged over. The Japanese Ward's costume wasn't completely on, missing the red overcoat and her fingerless gloves but her red visor was hooked up over her forehead.

"Good afternoon, you two."

Missy saluted her with the pencil as Hanabi glanced up. "Oh, hey Miss Militia. Need something?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Shadow Stalker is out," Missy said. "Said she had something to do." The girl rolled her eyes. "You know her."

"Double date." Hanabi shrugged. Well, that accounted for Glory Girl, Laserdream, Aegis and Gallant.

"Clockblocker was at the console and Kid Win in his lab, Shielder?"

"No idea," both girls said.

Hannah sighed. Eric Pelham wasn't integrating well. About the only people he spoke to among the Wards were his relatives. Understandable, but she'd have to tell Dauntless about it later. "Well, if you see him be sure to tell him what I'm going to tell you. There's a new parahuman that hasn't joined a gang yet."

"Keep an eye out?" Missy's face was solemn. "Sure, details?"

"She wears an insect themed costume. Tall, wavy dark hair. May or may not go by 'Hachi.'"

"...Bee?" Kaoru said with a smirk. "Got it, no problem."

Missy nodded as well.

"Thank you. Keep up the good work."

And they did do good work. The Wards program had never been intended to be training grounds for child soldiers. It was supposed to be about learning to control their powers, learning what they were capable of. Giving them a stable, supportive environment after their trigger and a little help academically and financially for their future. There should be more exercises, events, sessions but no one ever seemed to have the resources, the people, the funds, _the time._

Never enough time.


	4. Cricket

**Cricket**

* * *

Tuesday morning found me running again, first thing.

I woke up a bit later than my regular time, startled awake by my alarm clock blaring in my ear. I felt a bit refreshed, the benefits of going to bed early and not having homework to complete, and almost pain free. My hand was still a pain in the ass to deal with, just not as much of a literal pain dulling to just a bone deep ache. Painkillers really made a difference there.

I got on my usual sweats and paused just before I closed the closet door. A corner of the pale green and yellow ABB handkerchief stuck out. Takeo had given me his. I pushed it back and double checked my room. Nothing incriminating in sight. That relieved me more than it should have.

I headed downstairs, apologized to my dad for not having breakfast with him as he put on his coat, and grabbed an apple. We split up just outside the door, him to work and me for the Boardwalk, my hood up to hide the mess of my uncombed hair.

There was something appealing about being out and about just as the city was waking up. As I headed east at a brisk jog, there were a few other joggers acknowledging each other with head bobs and headphones in their ears. People were walking their dogs or taking small bird cages outside. The sun was hovering just above the horizon, so the shadows were long. The air was cool enough for my breath to fog and a bit of mist drifted in from the Bay.

It gave everything an ethereal, hazy look, the fog almost completely drowning out the buildings on the other side of the Boardwalk.

My training regimen had me running every morning, and alternating between my walks in the evenings or other exercises in the afternoons, depending on what day of the week it was. Late in the week, the approach of the weekend usually stirred up the neighborhood and I didn't know of any 'safe' patrol members. Instead it was jumping jacks, push ups and anything else I could think of in the basement before cooling down in front of the TV.

I'd gotten the idea from one of the 'community centers' a little ways from our neighborhood. I'd taken a peak in spite of Dad's warning and in the mornings, it was a scene of few elderly men and women following a group leader through Tai Chi routines. It had been a couple of days before I screwed up the courage to ask one of the women what they were doing. Turned out, they weren't training to fight, necessarily, but just to stay limber and give themselves energy to face the day.

Joining them would have been far too awkward, but I couldn't deny that the concept appealed to me. Not long after, I had started training in my own way. After a few false starts, I settled into a routine. It was more of a general endurance thing but with the way things have been going, maybe I should stop by again and learn how to defend myself.

I was more fit now. While I wasn't exactly chubby before, I'd had the really unfortunate combination of a slight pudge to my stomach and twigs for limbs, adding up to me looking like a frog forced to stand up on it's hind legs. A little less than three months had burned away the body fat, leaving me looking more like a meaty stick. Better. Kind of. I had the stamina to run at a steady jog without leaving me panting for breath at least.

The route I took varied every day, at my father's insistence, but it usually took me to the same place. In Brockton Bay, going east took you to one of two places. You either ended up at the Docks, or you ended up at the Boardwalk. And if you ventured further from the Boardwalk, you ended up in the Docks anyway. Sometimes I cut through, but often I just stuck to the main roads skirting the edges until I got to the more commercial sections.

Not today though.

Part of me regretted not at least stashing my handkerchief deep in my pockets so my Dad wouldn't see, just so I'd have it on hand, as I noticed the stares and the attention. I slowed down when the pavement gave way to gravel and forced myself to breathe. In and out. Though my legs were aching, I forced myself to power walk instead of just stopping. I'd made that mistake when I was first starting out. The cramps were legendary.

The main upside to having a father that was the Dockworkers Union spokesman was that he was reasonably well known, by word of mouth on the Docks if nothing else. His stubborn insistence in being involved and reaching out as best he could made a certain kind of impression. A few vaguely familiar faces looked at me with recognition.

There were quite a few people out this early, visiting neighbors or just occupying street-corners but I could honestly say that I would probably recognize Bao anywhere.

He had on his usual camo jacket and scarf, a combination that just barely managed to not look silly, with a T shirt underneath. His jeans were faded with rips on the knees, but the stylized grunge look rather than it being because of wear and tear. His boots I suspected were steel toed and he looked like he was on the edge of passing out and sleeping while standing.

I stopped by him and he jerked awake.

"Man." He palmed his face, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. "And you do this every morning? You monster."

"You said the time was okay," I said with a bit of amusement. I felt more than a bit self conscious, standing next to him in my sweats and messy hair but I had plenty of experience with feeling out of place.

"I wasn't thinking," he protested. He straightened and I felt my own posture tighten up with him. "So I talked to a few people and I've got you an in."

I felt my mouth go dry. "Just like that?"

"No," He sighed. "You'll get a face to face, later today. With Snake."

Snake was the name of Lung's most elusive lieutenant, about the only thing known about her was her gender and that she was the former second in command of a primarily Hmong gang on the south-east side. No one knew what her powers were, if she even had any and I was already having second thoughts. When it came to parahumans, fearing the unknown was a survival strategy.

I swallowed my doubts. There was a lot riding on this. "When and where?"

"Pier 4, 5 PM."

Pier 4 was rather deep in the industrial area bordering on the infamous Boat Graveyard. It wasn't quite No Man's Land with its abandoned buildings and languishing equipment, but it was close to the decayed parts of town no one wanted. It was a good place to hold recruitment without worrying about anyone stumbling upon you. It was also a good place to make someone disappear.

My only consolation was that it wasn't taking place in the dead of the night. "I'll be there."

Bao smiled and nodded towards my sling. "You going to class today?"

"Are you kidding?" I deadpanned, waving the cast. "A chicken could write neater than me right now."

He yawned behind his hand. "Right." He seemed to make a decision, nodding. "Me neither." Big surprise there. Not. "You ate yet?"

"Just an apple." I hadn't been brave enough to litter the street with the core, carrying it with me for at least ten minutes before tossing it into the first garbage can I saw.

"Come on. You ever had Banh chuoi before? The bakery should be open, my treat."

The offer surprised me. Eavesdropping on conversations I couldn't understand just to have company didn't really count as "hanging out" and the bags under his eyes told me he really wasn't used to waking up this early. It wasn't out of character, exactly, he seemed likably decent if lazy. I just didn't think he had any reason to want me around. Was it because he liked me, Taylor, or just putting his best foot forward for a new member?

"Okay." The word came out thickly. It would mean going deeper into ABB territory than I've ever been; I should be feeling more cautious. Instead there was just a bit of a thrill, like being allowed backstage to peek behind the curtain and see the actors without the scripts, costumes and masks.

Bao had a nice smile.

I coughed and looked down at the ground, horrified that I'd been staring. It really didn't help that he didn't seem to notice, tugging lightly on my sleeve.

"This way."

I followed him and was completely unable to keep the moronic smile off my face.

The heart of ABB was a city within a city. It was as if I crossed an invisible line, a divide that separated it from the outside world and followed different rules. The section of the Docks that I was used to was sleepy. It woke up slowly and was suburb with middle class homes, small yards and paved streets leading in from the outskirts. This reminded me of when the Docks had been a bustling part of the inner city.

Gradually, once we passed that line noise levels started to pick up. Towering spray painted murals a dizzying mix of color sprawled up the sides of the buildings we walked past. Entry points. Cars and vans were parked haphazardly, a bit of a slant there, too far out here and we wove through them under the watchful eye of some men and women sitting on the hoods, or leaning against the backs of trucks. Me, being a bit slow on the uptake, didn't realize it was a barricade until after we spilled onto the main street and not a parked car was in sight.

It felt like I had passed a point of no return.

The first sign I saw was in English, as well as five different alphabets underneath. Colored banners stuck out from the sides of the apartment buildings and off the fire escapes. Store fronts occupied the bottom with their own signs and shelves stuffed to bursting with goods out front. What looked like public announcements were plastered to the windows or walls. The smells were sweet, savory, fried food and cooking meat. People loitered around the stalls, talking animatedly and carrying bags.

Bao led me to one of the stores and held open the door for me. I ducked inside.

A portly balding man shouted something and I blanched, only for Bao to step up laughing and yelling something back. He ordered, I think, what looked like a baked pastry and smelled heavenly.

"Banana." He said, handing me a oiled paper with it inside. "It's good, you'll like it."

I barely waited until I was outside to bite into it. The outside was crispy and it tasted like sugar and banana, with a slightly chewy texture. It was good.

"Knew it!" He laughed.

We walked through the narrow grid of streets, chewing. I could have sworn I recognized Jing Wen from the moving crowd at a stall, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure so I didn't say anything. Bao pointed out places of interest, stores and centers. I was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to tell me about the gambling hall, judging from the 'oops' expression on his face and how quickly he moved on.

The main street was the center of commerce, most of the community shopped there at one point or another. Another painted mural, this time of dragons, marked the end of the public area.

"Dragon's lair," he said in a cheesy voice. "After today, that is where you go to be given a responsibility." He said the word, responsibility, with some weight. A perpetual academic slacker, taking something seriously. It was a paradoxical thought: ABB was good for him.

I had already assumed a responsibility. I had to see it through.

"Lung is there?"

He shrugged. "Usually."

I let it go and tried to burn the surroundings into my mind through the insects around. For a brief moment, what they felt was what I felt. I was them. Then I blinked and that moment was gone, just the memory of it like a carbon drawing in my mind.

I turned and smiled at my guide. "Anything else to see?"

Later that morning saw me searching through the Protectorate's official website in the library for the PHQ phone number. I wrote it down in the worst handwriting I have ever seen, couldn't help it, and waited until I was at home to pull out the burner phone Lisa suggested I get.

Just holding it made my stomach turn.

I punched in the number quickly.

"You've reached the Protectorate Headquarters." A male voice that was decidedly not Miss Militia answered. "Is this an emergency?"

"No," I said. "I'd like to talk to Miss Militia," and after a moment I added a bit of a desperate, "Please."

The man's voice softened. "Are you a parahuman, Miss?"

"Can you tell her Hachi wants to speak to her?"

"Alright. Stay on the line."

There was a beep before the strains of classical music came through the small speaker. It only managed to get through a couple of measures before the phone picked up.

"Are you alright?" I blinked in surprise at the concern in her voice, sounding exactly as I'd remembered her. Miss Militia had been my mother's favorite, even without the flashy powers or durability. I was beginning to see why.

"I'm fine but I really need to talk to you. Today."

She was quiet for a moment. "What happens today?" She asked shrewdly.

There was no good way to say this. "I join the ABB. For a good cause!"

She sighed and there was the squeaking sound of what must have been her chair. "I've heard that one before. Are you up for a proper talk, rather than over the phone?"

That was exactly what I wanted. "How soon?"

"As soon as possible. Do you need to be picked up?"

"I can make it." The last thing I wanted was for the neighbors to see a PRT van stop by our house. "Give me a half hour."

Reaching the ferry to the floating oil rig in costume took twenty.

* * *

I felt extremely self-conscious riding the ferry across the water to the Protectorate building, and it wasn't because I was wearing my costume in broad daylight. The driver hadn't even given me a second look, welcoming me aboard politely and not making any sudden moves, but I found it hard to let my guard down.

PRT stood for Parahuman Response Team, which made the name a bit misleading because it was actually the non-powered government handler of the Protectorate, the heroes. They were the funding, the regulations, the support and in the end they called the shots. And, as Lisa reluctantly told me, they were also compromised.

If I stopped to think about it, that scared the hell out of me.

It was as if within the time span on a single afternoon, I'd gone from Brockton Bay to deep within the pages of an Earth Aleph comic book. With genocidal aliens, sentient viruses, villains straight from Saturday morning cartoons and government conspiracies. Surreal. I hadn't had much time to appreciate just how far in over my head I was but I was starting to.

"Registering with the Protectorate?" The driver asked.

Fishing for information, I thought. My height was working for me, for once, which at times let me pass for older than I actually was albeit undeveloped. Which was true anyway, sadly.

"Yes."

I was able to see the edges of his smile from my place by the railing. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

I didn't dignify that with a response.

Meeting me on the small dock was a shield carrying teen in a rust red and gold armored costume, the lower half of his face set in a small smile. I recognized him from his images on PHO: Aegis.

From what I could remember, he was a shifter cape that repurposed parts of his body into whatever it needed. If he wasn't strong enough, tough enough, fast enough, that soon changed making him a nightmare to deal with on the front line. That wasn't counting his tinker-tech shield that could absorb a lot of incoming damage, buying him time to ramp up.

PHO also had him dating Laserdream, formerly of New Wave and was showing far more stability than the other Wards couple, Glory Girl and Gallant. And by that I mean they weren't breaking up every three weeks.

"Hachi?" He asked.

He couldn't see my face, but I grimaced. "That's me."

"Great! I'm-"

"Aegis, I know." Immediately after I wished I kept my mouth shut.

"Ah," he said sagely. "My reputation precedes me."

I let myself relax a little. In all honesty, I had nothing but respect for the Brockton Bay hero team. They were outnumbered and outgunned but wherever they could make a difference, they gave 110%. No matter the love-hate relationship people like my Dad had with them, it didn't change the fact that they _were_ heroes and I knew how terrible it felt having your hands tied.

"You have a very distinctive costume," I blurted, embarrassed.

"So do you." His smile shifted into a little smirk. "Very edgy."

That wasn't actually intentional but while the black bodysuit was probably fine, I really should have chosen different colors for the armor. I'd wanted insect themed but by the time I figured out it would actually make me look more like a humanoid beetle it was already too late.

"Where's Miss Militia?" My subtle attempt at changing the subject.

He made a 'follow me' gesture with his shield arm. "She set aside one of the briefing rooms. May I ask what this is about?"

Aegis was the current team leader of the Wards, so it made sense that he would at least ask.

"Sorry." But the less people that knew the better.

He didn't seem offended, shrugging. "Alright."

The interior of the PHQ looked more normal than I expected for being a superhero base. The corridors were rounded, wide enough to allow for people traveling both ways but with low ceilings. We passed one hallways that led deeper into the complex and they were less finished, with pipes coming out of the walls, and signs declaring them off-limits to visitors.

This place used to be an old oil rig back when the Protectorate's East-North-East branch was being established but it was easy to forget humble origins when you had a visible force field.

We stopped in front of a non-descript door.

"It was nice to meet you, Hachi." Aegis smiled. "Good luck."

"You too?" I stared after him as he walked away. I really hoped I didn't need to rely on luck. Mine was unerringly terrible.

I opened the door and my eyes fell on a perfectly ordinary room with a rectangular table with four black chairs seated around it. Miss Militia was already sitting facing me from the other side of the table and on the right end was the newest Ward, Hanabi.

"Hey." She gave me a small wave. Her costume had changed a little from her press release debut, mostly shifting colors around but her red visor stayed the same. The end result looked a lot less like someone had dressed her in the dark, and more like she wanted to stand out. "You mind if I sit in on this?"

I hesitated. I actually did mind but before I could say so, Militia spoke up.

"She can give you insight into the ABB that I can't, honestly. I thought it would help."

"It would," I admitted and closed the door behind me. "But that's not all I wanted to talk to you about."

"Your good cause?"

Militia was sharp, I had to give her that. "Is there a way to make sure we don't have eavesdroppers?"

Her eyebrows rose and I knew what it sounded like. I was in the PHQ, with two heroes and I didn't feel secure. I didn't.

After a moment, she nodded. "Hanabi?"

The Ward leaned back in her chair and reached out to touch the wall. She held her fingertips to it for a few seconds and then the metal seemed to explode with ribbons of red light. They wrapped around the entire room, cocooning it.

"I thought you just did explosions," I said, shocked.

"That's right." She smiled slyly. "I just get to choose what effects those explosions have."

I whistled. "Broken."

"I know, right!"

"Girls," Militia chided warmly. "Hachi, take a seat?" I did so. "What is it that has you so worried?"

I carefully thought over all the information I had. Everything Lisa had told me and everything I hinted out for myself at her vague hints. The familiar rush of anger as I remembered what her "boss" had on her burned in my stomach, as did all the uncertainty and fear at just what was at stake. I felt sick.

"The Undersiders are being backed by Coil. He intends to pit the E88 and ABB against each other, sooner rather than later." I paused, trying to find the words. "He has a girl working for him, she's forced to with implants and drugs and she has a thinking power."

Miss Milita's eyes had hardened.

"She said he has people in the PRT so I need this to not get out."

A brief silence descended. Hanabi looked away first.

"Fuck."

"Yeah," I let out a shaky laugh. "That is a good way to put it."

"You want to warn Lung," Militia stated.

That was part of it, a large part, but I couldn't deny that something like had been building for a while. It was as Lisa said, inevitable. The Protectorate couldn't hold the city together by themselves. So in absence of good options, there was only the less bad. As far as I was concerned, ABB was in the running for 'less bad.'

"More than that. I want her cooperation. You can't move without the PRT knowing, which means he'll know. And even if you can slip by, one or two people is not enough."

Miss Militia crossed her arms, tapping piano fingers on the sleeve of her costume. I didn't think she would dismiss me, she didn't seem like that kind of person and what I could see of her expression was edged. "How sure are you about this?"

"Her power is based on information gathering of some kind, really good at it." Scary good. "I saw the surgical scars. She risked a lot contacting me and the only one misdirection benefits would be Lung."

"Not her style." Miss Militia hummed. "Is it possible for your contact to pass me information as well?" Not," she held up a hand to stall my answer. "Not that I don't believe you, but it's better to have backup. You will be able to get a second opinion more readily, and I won't have to work off of third hand information." She looked at me seriously. "You understand I can't give you permission to join a gang."

I nearly bit my tongue. "But it's the only way!"

"It's easy," she corrected gently, lowering her voice. "It's tempting. But you don't even know if Lung will listen to you."

"She will," Hanabi said and we both turned our heads towards her. "Don't demand anything or she might refuse just because."

I blinked. "That's - "

"Petty?" Hanabi shrugged. "She's proud. So ask, beg if you have to. But a gang war is going to hurt a lot of people and she has to know that. Her people."

Hanabi sounded like she was speaking from personal experience. "You live on the Docks," I accused her.

"My father does. I used to live on the edge of downtown, south." That was Empire territory. She also said "used to."

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly.

She smiled sadly. "Don't worry about it."

"If you can get me contact information, I'll see what I can do on my end. I might be able to talk to Lung, so you won't have to get involved."

The more time that passed the closer Coil was to getting what he wanted. Militia was probably going to have to jump through hoops just to make an inch of progress, on top of her other responsibilities and moles within the very organization that handed out the marching orders.

I couldn't help feeling that we didn't have that much time.

Miss Militia somehow saw it. My body language maybe, or how I didn't answer immediately, I couldn't tell. She didn't try to dissuade me any further, just a simple, "Be careful."

The cocoon of hard light frizzed. Hanabi asked, "Am I good to let it down?"

"Yes," I answered. "We're done here."

I stood up. The ribbons of red light dissolved into sparkling motes, like the colored sparks of fireworks. I opened the door and left.

5 PM saw me at Pier 4 in casual, sturdy clothing. Slightly baggy jeans and sneakers, a long sleeved shirt with a light jacket for the chill. Bao was nearby, headphones in his ears and the setting sun glinting off the gold dragon on his scarf.

My heart was trying to beat out of my ribcage.

It was quiet and I was having second thoughts, as well as third and fourth ones but I just took deep breaths and tried to steel my nerves. It didn't exactly work and when the sound of soft footsteps reached my ears, I almost swallowed my tongue.

The footsteps were in threes, two steps and then a soft thump in a rolling pattern. It rounded a still, rusting crane and I laid eyes on Snake.

She was a small woman with a leg brace and cane. Her clothes were simple, a blood red blouse and black dress pants. What caught my attention was her face, or rather the fact that I could actually see it. She didn't wear a mask, or visor or shades. Just a blank smile and average features you could lose in a crowd easily.

"Snake," Bao greeted cautiously. "Today went well?"

"It did," she said. Her voice was dusty but warm, with a tinge of an emotion I couldn't put my finger on. "Hello, Taylor."

Her gaze focused on something around me, or through me and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"I would like to join the ABB," I said with far more confidence than I felt.

Snake smiled placidly.

"No."

"No." I repeated, as if I needed to hear the word from my own mouth before I could believe it. The sick feeling seemed to crawl up from my toes and nest in my head, making the world tilt. I stared at Snake, at her distant smile and felt my face begin to heat up. My fists clenched. _"_ _No?"_

Snake tapped her cane on the ground.

"You disagree with my decision?" She asked with the sliver of interest in her voice.

Hearing that tone just made me angrier. It was like being back at Winslow "overhearing" girls taking potshots at me and acting surprised when called on it, knowing that if I ever actually fought back I would be the one punished. She was lording it over me, I thought. All I saw at that moment was a plain, small woman smiling when all I wanted to do was save the fucking city.

 _I was not taking no for an answer._

"Yes, I disagree with your decision!" I bit out. At the edge of my awareness, I felt the gathering of hundreds upon hundreds of bugs. I had no idea where they had come from. I stilled them.

Her reaction was subtle. A slightly wider smile as she dipped her head a fraction and leaned more heavily on her bad leg, creating a slight plastic creak. Her eyes shifted down from around my head but I got the feeling she still wasn't looking at me.

"Why?"

"Why?" I sputtered. "What do you mean why? You just shut me down without telling me anything!"

"Taylor," Bao whispered urgently from the side.

I pulled myself back and tried to take calming breaths. It didn't matter if I joined or not, I rationalized. It wasn't like I didn't know where the center of ABB holdings were. I could sneak by with my bugs. Actually delivering a warning might be a bit difficult but I had a few ideas for that. And Lung would actually listen to me.

"Snake," Bao said. "This isn't because she isn't -"

"Asian?" Snake finished for him. "No, although that does have problems of its own."

I was surprised to feel disappointment at those words. I was a little invested in the idea of joining something, that people wanted me and it hurt hearing that might not be true.

Bao jerked in surprise. "But Lung said - "

"I am aware of what Lung said. You think she rules as a tyrant, thinking for you?"

He backpedaled. "No, I - "

"Lung may welcome all who would follow, but this one," she pointed her cane at me. "Will not follow. There is no room in the ABB for deceit."

The bottom of my stomach dropped out. She thought I was a spy? "I'm not a spy," I said, desperate to salvage this situation before it got any worse. "Or an infiltrator or traitor or anything like that."

"And should we call on you against the E88?"

"I'm not a Nazi," I said sharply. Disgust warred with outrage at the implication that I had any sympathy for them. Unlike what I had seen of the ABB, the Empire 88 held no sympathy for those under their heel.

"I vouched for her, Snake. Taylor's good people." Bao flashed me a quick smile. I felt a flush of embarrassment and what I hoped was gratitude and relief for his support, regardless of his intentions.

Snake tapped her cane on the ground again. "And against the Protectorate?" She was smiling like she already knew the answer.

"I - " My mouth opened but after several long moments I had to close it. I was a hero, or trying to be one. But helping the ABB attack the heroes in order to help the Protectorate was a paradox, and there was the crux of the dilemma facing me.

Helping one, would almost certainly mean conflict with the other. I supposed I deluded myself into forgetting exactly what joining a gang meant. I was still seeing the colored banners and murals, people nodding in my direction and the taste of banana on my tongue. I wasn't ashamed in admitting to myself that I wanted that but I didn't like the price tag.

"That is why I must refuse you," Snake said. "You are not here to be ABB. You are here to get something from the ABB."

"You're right. What I want is this city in one piece and we both know who can actually do that." I had to blink as the words left my mouth. That was true, wasn't it? I felt a little unease when the answer to that question came back as 'Yes.' I believed that.

"You seek to use us?"

"I want your help." A flash of memory, the surgical scar on the base of Lisa's head. With it came the determination. I had to see this through.

Snake's smile dimmed as she finally saw me, focused on me. "And there it is," she murmured. "I see about you now a mechanical queen with tattered wings. Perhaps Lung named you well."

My heart stopped. "What?"

She turned on her heel slowly and started to limp away. "You may follow me."

I knew I shouldn't push my luck but I couldn't stop the question from popping out of my mouth. "Is that a yes?"

Snake tilted her head to the side but didn't answer.

Bao cleared his throat. I jumped and turned to him, an excuse on my lips. "I'm not going to ask what that was about," he said quickly. "But you've got a good reason, right?"

I said two words. "Gang war."

He puffed out his cheeks and nodded. "Right."

He held out his hand. I bit my lip and took it.

The 'Dragon's Lair' was a square of repurposed warehouses isolated from the main population by abandoned condemned buildings surrounding it. The grid layout of the empty inner city streets made everything look the same with blacked out windows and dusty corners. We made left and right turns too many times for me to keep track without my bugs, but I could instantly tell we had arrived when the native insect population plummeted.

Snake led the way to a metal side door and I could feel the anticipation building, making me feel giddy. It lead to a back hallway skirting the edge of a main room I only saw through various open doors. A slight haze of smoke on the ceiling and the sharp smell of tobacco met my nose.

I caught glimpses of women wearing more threads than clothes and a lot of tattoos, covering every inch of skin in some cases. I got the impression this was a less than reputable establishment, but Bao didn't even bat an eyelash. I lost a bit of respect for him because of that. Not a lot, admittedly, but it bothered me.

"Come here often?"

He squeezed my hand. I tried to ignore the heat in my cheeks and was glad for the poor lighting. "Nah. Got better things to do."

"Homework?"

 _"_ _Sleeping."_

There was a lacquered wooden door up a short flight of steps with a guard posted. He wasn't wearing a cloth top, showing off a "shirt" of dragon tattoos. "Snake."

The woman nodded back. "Taylor."

Bao let go of my hand. I felt a little abandoned. "Yes?"

Snake smiled at me, her blank polite smile. "You will not live to make me regret this."

I couldn't respond, my voice stuck in my throat. I could only nod.

With that, she walked away. Bao nudged me forwards. "I'll wait for you," he promised. "Lung will like you, trust me."

She liked Hachi, I wanted to tell him. And I wasn't even sure what it was about me that had gotten her attention. I had the option of just coming out and telling her who I was but it might make her expect more of me. You don't throw unpowered minions against seasoned heroes, but another cape was fair game. I wanted to avoid that, if I could.

I pushed the door open and headed inside.

The room was surprisingly plain. Off white walls with water-color floral patterns and characters, dark wood lining. There were a few squat filing cabinets against the walls and a rice paper mat under my feet. I instantly felt guilty for tracking dust from outside on it.

The center of the room was dominated by a large, low table with seating pillows around it: five of them. And beside it closer to the wall was a decent sized desk of the same kind of dark wood.

That's where Lung sat, her head bent over a book she was writing in. This time, she wore a beautiful blue robe with silver flowers and a wide sash around her waist. Her flame rotated her head casting moving shadows.

I had the sudden thought that it must be killing her eyes.

She calmly set her pen down and I held my breath, "New recruit? Why would Snake bring you to me so soon?"

"I don't know, sir." Sir? Ma'am. I had no idea what to call her. How do you address one of the two most powerful criminal leaders in the city?

"You - " She cut herself off. "Hachi?"

It occurred to me just then that I should have accounted for her hearing. Despite the situation, I felt a little embarrassed at the slip.

"Um, hi." I said lamely. Of course she would have recognized my voice.

"I'm surprised," she admitted. She stood up from her chair and rounded the desk, trailing her hand along the edge. "Did you think on what I said?"

I will admit to panicking. I'd been so focused on everything else that I didn't consider that she might want to continue our last conversation. I thought back quickly. It was about strength and, ironically, not focusing on a problem to the point of missing other things. I didn't want to just dump everything on her lap.

Snake's accusation of using her stuck with me and it might seem like dodging the question. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"How do you feel about giant hornets?" Wait, what?

Lung paused. "What?"

I kept talking. "You know, the ones that are like three times the size of regular hornets and they're Asian. They can sting more than once and kill a lot of people, I don't know how many but a lot of people, and they are incredibly aggressive to just about everything…" I had no idea where I was going with this as I slowly trailed off into mortified silence. Did I really just pitch hornets as being Asian?

The awkward pause was only broken by my palm meeting my face.

There was a sound like a hiccup and a cough.

I peeked through my fingers when Lung began to laugh.

"I'm sorry," Lung said insincerely, clearly not sorry for laughing at me. "But your face, oh relax, please. I am not one to be offended so easily."

The rest of the tension in my shoulders and back drained away and I almost slumped over in relief. It wasn't exactly an all clear sign. I found myself not really caring. I didn't have my bugs and was in a flammable room with Lung. And as far as a pyrokinetic was concerned, _I_ was flammable. Even if I managed to escape outside, I would still have to go through the rest of ABB.

It wasn't that I anticipated this going wrong, more like if it did there was nothing I could do about it.

Lung stepped up to me and nodded. "Better."

She offered me a seat at the round table which I took a bit awkwardly. I tried to sit cross legged but my knees banged up against the underside until I figured out that I was free to move the cushion. Lung waited for me to get settled in patiently. Didn't snigger, or mock me and maybe it was a bit self centered, but I felt that instantly made her better than half of Winslow.

Instead of sitting directly across from me, or at a weird angle as some sort of power play, Lung just sat next to me. Her small circling fireball shifted to hover above the center of the table, out of the way.

"This is an unusual situation." She propped her elbows up on the table and clasped her hands together. "I don't see recruits until after their initiation is completed and is vouched for by a lieutenant."

Her masked face shifted, focusing on my face, "You _were_ looking to join, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but Snake had other ideas." I explained. Surprisingly, I felt a bit of relief at that. I'd been fully prepared to bite the bullet and join a parahuman gang, but if I could warn Lung about Coil and not join? Best of both worlds.

"Did she tell you why?"

I hesitated on answering because it wasn't a very flattering one. "I wouldn't be loyal to the ABB."

Her answering chuckle was dry, humourless, "It's a scary thing, isn't it? To trust something as large as the ABB, knowing that you would have to take the good with the bad."

My eyes dropped to the table, hands squeezing the fabric of my pants, "You think there is bad too. Why don't you just-"

"Stop it? When I arrived here many were deep into crime because they liked it. They would take the shallow power, the highs and freedom over helping a neighbor. The previous version of the ABB was disgusting." She looked away, seeing something I didn't as she continued.

"There was no greater purpose. Just greed and selfishness." She gestured at the other spaces around the table. "Some were willing to change but such things don't happen overnight. How long has it been?"

I thought back to the very first time the city became aware of Lung. The sirens sounding in the dead of night and a very short glimpse of a sinuous, silver creature rearing up. "Almost four years."

"Adding good is more important than removing bad, I think. The more members that join, because of that good, because that is the ABB to them the easier it is. Soon there will be more of you," she gently poked my forehead. "Than there is of the others. There will be no room for them at this table."

"Is that why you gave Aswang up?" Handing over one of her lieutenants to the Protectorate had seemed more like an after-thought, but now? It raised new questions.

Lung's reply was succinct, "I've been looking for a good reason to get rid of him. I took advantage of the timing."

I wasn't entirely convinced. But I didn't want to seem like I was looking for holes to poke in what she was telling me or put her on the defensive. "I read about Parian on the PHO message boards."

Lung simply nodded, "Kali has made her mistakes, yes. She is also leading a group that hasn't been fully integrated. 'Asian' is diverse enough without getting into the rest of the sub-continent. I hope you don't think poorly of me for tolerating her for a little longer."

I didn't. It was a simple explanation that made a kind of unpleasant sense. If I were Kaiser, infighting in ABB would be like Christmas came early. "You don't want the ABB to splinter."

"It would undo everything I've worked for and there are those that would like to see us falter." She straightened the silk white cuffs of her robe absently. I could imagine the distracted frown on her face before she leaned over the table again, palms flat on the surface. "If you were refused, why did Snake bring you here?"

I inhaled, it was now or never, "There's a man named Coil, minor leagues."

"I am familiar with the name." Lung confirmed.

"Good, because he's not minor. He wants this city and is willing to go through you and Kaiser to get it. He has at least two people, one Thinker under him, enslaved. The Undersiders are his. They're supposed to poke you, get information on what you own, how you own it. What's important, what isn't and how'd you respond to something big. E88 big."

I was embellishing a little with my facts. Lisa hadn't told me that straight out, but it was obvious enough when you looked at what her group had hit and the reasons why. Money makers, places that provided gang funding, at the edge of territory lines. Smash and grab, disappear into the city gray zone between.

Open gang activity on "neutral" areas like the Boardwalk or downtown would put more pressure on the Protectorate to act since that was it's tourism and economic center respectively. It wasn't really neutral, just less overt.

Dragon icons on shop signs you couldn't prove and generic brochures for youth groups with all white members on the pictures inside, for example. Something you could pretend you didn't see as you went about your day.

"I see." She was looking at me, but at the same time I had the feeling she was thinking very carefully about what I just said.

I coughed, nervous from the stare, "She, uh, she also mentioned a high powered rifle shot to the head would...is that -?"

"True?" Her fingernails tapped on the dark wood. "I am not immortal. This Thinker, is she aware of when?"

"Working on it," I said miserably. "I didn't want to just sit on the information if it turns out to be tomorrow. It's a trap that needs two people to fall in. If I could warn you, stop you from getting caught in it then when doesn't matter."

"Thank you." Her head dipped in my direction. "It is a good plan. I would not let attacks go unpunished and even if I suspected, I could not remain on the defensive forever." She did sound actually grateful for what I had told her.

"We'd have to take him out." I suddenly said. It's what Lisa was aiming for, I was sure. And I didn't blame her. Someone who implants devices in people, drugs them in order to force them to work for him, and stays under the radar was a dangerous someone that couldn't be allowed to slip free. It wasn't enough to just ruin one of his plans. He'd just make more. It wouldn't _stop_ him.

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We?"

"I live in this city," I tried to explain. "I don't want people like him in it."

"Agreed." Lung reclaimed her fire to hover idly around her head again as she stood. "If you have any more information, please tell Bao. I'm told he vouched for you."

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. He was waiting outside for me. I would have to give Takeo back his handkerchief. Neal would probably be there complaining about his day job at Bay Central and the siblings would be trading horrible jokes. I'd have to tell them I wasn't joining.

I didn't want to do that.

"I live on the docks," I said.

"Oh?" I didn't for a moment believe she didn't know who I was, but she was being polite, letting me control the conversation. I still fidgeted in my seat.

"I want to believe that it's like you said, replacing bad with good but," there is still places like this, I didn't say out loud. There was still drugs and protection rackets and violence if you caught the wrong person on a bad day. Just more organized. "I want to give you a chance."

"You wouldn't be giving us a chance, Hachi." Lung replied evenly. "We would be giving you a chance."

That would be why Snake said no. I felt like I understood a little. I don't trust easily. Never had a reason to, not when people in the hallways from teachers to students just looked the other way.

"But," Lung said abruptly. I looked up at her. "I understand sometimes a person just wants a place to belong." She went back to her desk and picked up her pen again, a dismissal. "You have my permission."

I exited Lung's office giddy, almost walking on air in a heady mixture of relief, happiness, disbelief. I blame that as the reason why I threw my good arm around a smiling Bao. I froze halfway into it with sudden sobriety but he carried the hug the rest of the way.

His scarf got tangled in my sling. He insisted I keep it, he had more.

I did.


	5. Interlude, Snake

**Interlude, Snake**

* * *

Lung blew into their lives like the summer rains, Snake remembered. The torrent would strike suddenly, washing away foundation and reshaping the landscape to suit its whims. It collected in the valleys and exploited weaknesses in the rock. You would find drowned plants in the aftermath, limp and rotting. Drowned animals, drowned people. But those rains were needed in the mountains, to revitalize the land and quench thirst, it nurtured life.

As her mother once said, one should be _grateful_ that it does not take everything you own as payment.

At a time there had been twelve of them, carving out their own little slice of the world with strength. The 'Asian Bad Boyz' had been the largest gang gang by the Trainyard, with Aswang at their head. Back when the trains had been frequent, it was common knowledge that the inspectors had been bought or quietly threatened to ignore inconsistencies in the manifestos, crates with labels on the outside that didn't match what they stored within. The Bad Boyz were established in the city like rot on wood. It was the name one thought of, when a girl went missing. Other gangs were smaller, and no less virulent.

It would be accurate to say Chang Min bought her. He collaborated with the ABB often, using his influence and contacts to trade favors. She had no illusions as to her worth. When he found out exactly what she could see, he gifted the changer with lucrative drug deals so that the man wouldn't feel cheated. He treated her well, considering. He snipped her longing for home out of her head. Along with other unnecessary things.

The posturing, turf wars and violence held nothing for her but blurred images. Too many people, too many outcomes. She was satisfied being something of a fortune teller under the guiding hand of Chang Min. White collar crime. Even among those that avoided the Bay's various economic pitfalls, there was always something to gain by exploiting others.

One day, their autonomy came to a swift end.

Snake's natural sight was damaged, acid burned. She considered it a worthy price to pay for what she gained in return. The future. It was a kaleidoscope of images, outcomes. A dice rolled and it fell on all numbers.

She had to learn how to focus it, to tune out her visions of a leaf falling in all directions, of a pebble skipping across the water two, three, four times. The world was a faded dream. Everything had happened. Everything was happening.

People, ordinary human beings were as ephemeral as the rest. A set of possible actions, blurred. It was when she beheld those with a gift, that her sight gained meaning.

Chang Min had been a ruby snake. He was scaled in bitterness and jealousy, venom dripped when he spoke and he curled around a gold coin possessively. She could see the actions he would take, dozens, but as time passed the visions began to fall away one by one until all that was left was a near certainty. Only a few seconds of forewarning.

That was enough.

It meant she saw the wounded dragon lash out and crush the serpent's head seconds before the sound reached her.

"Anyone else?"

The hiss had been loud in the quiet room. Blood dripped from its claws.

"No?" It asked, mocking. "You will not avenge him? You will not challenge me?"

The dragon captivated her as it took shape, details sharpened. It bled water. It's silver, shallow pride was flaking. It had tasted failure and found it a bitter poison. It was languishing, searching for purpose. Her breath caught as its gold eyes settled on her. She could feel the warmth radiating from it and she forced herself to see beyond the creature.

The woman was much taller than her. Dark hair. Pale in a way that was almost as alien to her as the black men in the city.

"I have heard of you," the Dragon said.

She felt despair. She brought this creature on them, brought it here. She clenched her fists in her lap, lowered her eyes and said nothing.

"I will know your name." It spoke again.

She looked instead at Chang Min's body. The snake had left it, leaving his form eerily still. Faded and dull. No more possibilities there. Cold of it, she thought. To simply abandon him without mourning.

"Snake," she had decided then.

"I am Lung." The Dragon hooked a claw beneath her chin and studied her. It bared hooked teeth. "Will you follow me?"

Snake observed the branches in the world. If she refused, she would not live. It would be quick and painless Accepting lead to hundreds, thousands of possibilities, too much for her to separate out and see. She thought she might like exploring those choices. She was also afraid of them.

"Will I be valued?" She asked.

Lung laughed. "As an imperial treasure."

She could see the Dragon make a decision then. Paths solidified while others withered away. Lung would keep its word.

"Yes."

* * *

Snake watched silently from the corner of the room. It was a mundane thing, unimportant, watching for signs of tampering or rigging of the games on the floor. The dice rolled. Snake eyes. Sevens. Everything in between. The cards were dealt with a single thread but once the game started choices began to muddy the waters as they shifted in hands. An extra card. She signaled and the bouncers closed in.

Lung was without her mask, seated at a casual card table next to her mother, nursing a small cup of warm rice wine. She straightened her mother's hands to hide the cards, for the third time, and pointed out a pair. And then nearly jumped out of her seat when the woman played it.

" _Mama._ No."

The woman tittered and took it back. The other players, also aged men and women, smiled indulgently. The dragon was curled lazily as it plucked the two cards and set them on the table face down. "Keep these, don't give them away. You won't win like that."

The aging woman grumbled in Mandarin and squinted at her cards.

One of Kali's approached the table and bent at the waist to whisper in the dragon's ear. She could see the pattern around it shift with the new information. Choice made.

Lung switched to Japanese as she stood, addressing the other players in a humble tone. Self deprecating humor, she saw all variations of their grins and laughter. They did not know. Lung preferred it that way.

The mother reached out to grasp her daughter's hand tightly. Lung allowed the delay. The woman let go slowly.

She followed Lung outside. "Who?"

She saw the decision to tell her. The E88.

"Kaiser." Lung said simply. The dragon looked up to the sky thoughtfully and this close, Snake realized the shallow pride she had seen, flaking, was being replaced. Something gold that ran deeper. "He should learn humility."

Snake looked forward along the potential actions and smiled. "It is bait for a larger trap. He intends to kill you."

The future shifted. The losses suffered changed in every image. It would not be a clean victory, but in each one the Empire retreated and Lung remained sole sovereign.

"Ah." The dragon grinned toothily and looked at her from the corner of its eye. Oni Lee handed the woman her true face cast in metal. "He can _try._ "

She gathered her five lieutenants around her, the remains of twelve. Snake felt the usual apprehension, as she had when Chang-Min left her alone in the house and he disappeared from her sight. The unknown bothered her but she did not insist on accompanying them. Treasures were not to be put at risk.

 _"_ _Lung. Chagpo nang."_

Lung acknowledged it with a nod of her head. She watched until the dragon faded from her sight. There was no one else with a gift around.

The world was dimmer.

* * *

"You wish for me to trust you with the youth?" Lung had asked. There were four now and a space needed to be filled, a responsibility. It needed doing and Snake would do it. If not her, then someone else whose choices had hidden motivations would. Lung would not allow his permanent removal until he acted. Snake had to admit it was only a possibility, but it set her ill at ease.

"Yes."

The dragon pondered. "Do you even know how to interact with them?"

She could look ahead and see what not to do. Snake had the feeling Lung would not accept that as an answer. She remained quiet.

Lung's huffed in dry amusement. "Guidance, Snake. Thi Hien - " Lung paused, then began again. "She lead in a way that made them want to follow. The youth that come are often troubled. Be a safe place. No judgment. Make them feel valued as part of the group. Successes and failures are shared."

Like Daichi. That name had only been mentioned once in Snake's hearing. Lung had taken something from his death that was more important than the boy himself. Something that had nearly been forgotten, until failure dredged it up from the sea.

"I can," Snake had said.

Lung inclined her head. "Perhaps."

That was how she found herself sitting at a low table in her room, the smell of sweet meat and green tea in the air. It was not what Lung had intended. She had laughed loud when she found out, but allowed it. In Snake's eyes, it was if she had found a broken bird, languishing.

There was no reason to let it suffer needlessly.

"This is good," the girl said with pleasant surprise. The bird stopped pecking at it's festering sore.

"It was made by Yuka," Snake told her. "She continues to thank you for your help."

The bird ducked its head, shying away. It's metal feathers were dull and the gears on its wings rusted from disuse. Guilt and hopelessness dripped from it like machine oil. The conversation paths spiraled out in front of her to a single point.

It stared into the meat bun as if it held vast secrets. "That's very kind of her," it said softly.

"I will tell her you liked them."

"Thank you."

The bird nibbled guiltily.

Snake smiled. "How was your day, Amy?"

* * *

They thought it a weakness. Mercy. Kind. At one time, she thought the same. And Snake supposed it was kind, if one would consider a quiet suffocation as opposed to burning to death, kind. To disobey was to die. Did it matter how, in the end? Aswang would not die this day. Was that kindness?

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" The dragon hissed.

Snake looked down at Aswang dispassionately as he spit curses in the Philippine language . His knees were charred, flaking holes. She could see his bones with strips of burnt flesh still attached and the smell of cooked meat was strong. The pavement underneath had begun to melt into slag.

She'd already seen this outcome.

The punishment differed, the time changed but she had seen with clarity that he would not last much longer. He should have had his roaming eyes put out, so that Lung did not have to feel their gaze.

"I could say we don't deal bad drugs because killing customers is counterproductive. I could say we don't pick fights with the heroes because it gets us nothing. I could say," Lung turned towards Aswang. "We don't kidnap girls to rape because it is too high profile and distasteful. I could say many things, but I don't. Do you know why?"

Oni Lee was silent. The question was not for him. Snake remained quiet. The question was not for her. Kali cringed. Aswang spit at Lung's feet.

"The reasons don't matter," the dragon said slowly, her voice as silk as she absently crushed his arm under her heel. "You are to obey."

The flame that hovered around Lung's head as a crown, her symbol of power, flared. Snake could see the truth in the dragon that curled around her: she'd taken no pleasure in the act. The damage was unlikely to be permanent, but the memory of pain was the intent. Penance for his actions and a promise, should she ever come across him again.

"The Protectorate has a cage for you, Aswang. Enjoy it."

She held out her hand, and Oni Lee placed the dragon mask within it. She fitted it over her face with practiced ease. "Come."

They left Aswang there, moaning on the warm pavement.

Snake let her eyes fall on the back of Lung's head, contemplating. Summer rains. The analogy was apt, she felt. Keep your head above the rushing waters, heed it's currents and show it the proper respect or you drown. Meet those standards, and you prospered. There was no room for complacency.

The absence of cruelty was not kindness.

There were now three and a space that needed to be filled.


	6. Dragonfly

**Dragonfly**

* * *

I woke up at the usual time, a bit before 6:30, and for once without the lingering exhaustion. I had a good feeling about today. I suppose it said something about my life that I laid in bed for the better part of ten minutes exploring the alien positivity.

Dread was familiar. Grim determination as if I was marching to the gallows was what made me get up in the morning at times. Once it had been hope. After Emma had gotten herself suspended for a week, I thought they would back off. They did, for a month. My grades had even picked up a little in time for midterms.

It wasn't until after winter break that I realized they had just given me a false sense of security.

I got up before I could kill my own mood and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Dad was in his Union T shirt and jeans with one sock on. The custom print was of a barge on the backdrop of Brockton Bay's blue silhouette. He'd gotten it for Christmas the year before last and he'd told me he didn't like wearing it. Felt too much like a 'We had a good run' to him.

"What's the occasion?" I asked as I brushed past him to take the orange juice out from the fridge.

Dad smiled at me. "We setting up a barbecue by the office, something to get the guys together. Maybe make it more of a community thing."

I poured us both a cup. "That sounds like fun. Is that what you'll be doing all day?"

"It's been a bit slow lately," Dad hedged. "Seemed like as good a time as any."

The toaster popped out the first of the blueberry Eggo waffles. Dad grabbed the edges of them gingerly and tossed them onto the plates he had set up. Bacon sizzled in the pan. He nudged the maple syrup further down the counter for me to pick up.

"It's a good idea."

I was trying to be encouraging for his sake. Dad had a habit of throwing himself into doomed projects when he felt like he wasn't doing enough, such as dusting off his proposal for the revival of the Bay ferry. He'd come home from the Mayor's even more depressed and angry which led to him working late doing who know what. Something would jolt him out of it eventually. We both had seasonal passes to the emotional roller-coaster.

Dad handed me my plate. "Let's just hope the ABB doesn't decide to drop in."

"They wouldn't," I protested before I really thought about it. Would they?

"We'll see." He sat down at the table. "So you're looking upbeat today. Anything going on?"

I shrugged. "Just feeling positive, like today is going to be good."

I hated lying to my dad. He'd never bugged me about the bullying, so I'd always been able to just come home and sort of let my guard drop. I couldn't do that now because I knew I'd end up saying something incriminating that he wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye to. Bao's scarf was safely tucked away in the one place I knew Dad would never look: the bottom of my backpack.

There was a time for honesty, but when that meant telling my father that I maybe joined ABB, that time was not now. Maybe not ever. One mistake or a single concerned phone call from the school, and my dad would probably flip, and things wouldn't be the same between us for a very long time.

It wasn't guilt in my stomach this time, not like it had been after my first night of heroing. It was more of a certain tenseness in my shoulders. I knew he wouldn't understand but I needed this. More than I was probably admitting to myself.

"Are you going to tell me who you met with yesterday?"

Right, that.

"Just Bao and some of his friends."

Dad frowned at his waffles. "You're spending more time with that boy. Are we going to have to talk?"

"It's not like that!" I barely avoided choking on my orange juice. I had honestly not even considered what it would look like to him. It was better than him getting suspicious for ABB related reasons, but only barely. Besides, I doubted Bao had even the slightest interest in me. He was just genuine. If he was happy, he smiled. If he was angry it showed on his face. If he didn't feel like going to class, he didn't try to half ass it but just skipped instead.

I was, well, me. I would have a very hard time believing that he would honestly consider me over a girl like Bun Ma. Dark haired was about where the similarities ended. She was pretty in a small, impish way and if she was going to Clarendon along with her brother, her parents must be well off.

"There was another girl there, Bun Ma and her brother. They go to Clarendon."

Dad's eyebrows rose. "That's quite a ways."

"I think they were visiting family," I guessed. "A little snobby sometimes but they were trying. Ended up making stereotype jokes the whole time."

I didn't join in for obvious reasons.

"I like them."

Dad smiled slightly. "That's good."

I shoveled more waffle into my mouth. The rest of the breakfast went like that, just awkward questions and answers back and forth. It was a lot better than it used to be.

"I'm thinking of going back to school soon. Maybe." I shrugged with my good arm. "Pick up some homework at least."

"Absolutely not," Dad shut me down. "I'll get your work for you but if you don't need to be there, don't."

"Thanks, Dad."

He didn't take the opening to ask if it had been getting any better or worse and I was grateful for it. It made this conversation much easier than it could have been and I knew it couldn't have been that easy at all for him. I felt like I owed him.

"They have this thing," I said slowly. "Um, like a tutoring thing and I was just thinking about going. Doing something productive in the evening."

It was my canned response to questions about where I was going, studying at so and so's as my way of covering anything I might be doing. I would actually have to bring my grades up if it was going to have any chance of flying, but I should be able to pull it off. I'd be officially known as a 'dock rat' but as long as I watched myself, I should be safe from the E88.

The only problem would be Emma. I wasn't sure how'd she respond to losing her favourite punching bag, but I was long past the point of caring now. I just wanted it to stop.

"You'll have to tell me when to expect you back." Dad said sternly.

"Sure."

"Okay then." He sighed. "I'm glad you found some friends."

He said it like he was trying hard not to be a sore loser.

"I'm glad too."

We finished the rest of our breakfast in silence.

"Were you planning on running today?" He nodded towards my sweats.

"Have to get back into it or -"

"It'll be harder to start up again. I know. Got your spray?"

"In my pocket." Along with Takeo's handkerchief this time. I didn't really have any plans for where my route was going to take me today. Maybe just to the Boardwalk and back but I felt better having it on me.

I was glad for the excuse to escape, rinsing off my sticky maple syrup-coated plate before putting it into the dishwasher. "I'll see you later."

"Be safe."

I hugged him. "It doesn't matter about my friends. You're my dad."

I didn't have to look to know that he was smiling wide. "Love ya, kiddo."

I pulled on my shoes with a bit of effort. I'd left them tied so I didn't have to mess with that, shoving my feet into them. I closed the door behind me and took off with a light jog.

I took the same general route as I usually did on my morning runs, heading east towards the Bay. The neighborhood was just beginning to wake up with lights shining through the windows and the faint sounds of someone singing in their shower, a vaguely militant song in a language I couldn't recognize.

Back in the golden days, the city had been a bustling metropolis. Ships were coming and going at all hours with the cloud from their smokestacks adding to the morning haze. Further north at the Trainyard, deliveries were coming by rail at regular intervals, ready to be shipped overseas and the city was overflowing with people. At the far outskirts to the south were some abandoned construction projects for more apartment complexes, more roads, another school left interrupted.

The northern end of the bay, close to the water was all about the industry. Ships, warehouses, factories, railroad sidings and the homes for everyone who worked those jobs. You also had the ferry running across the bay itself.

The ferry was my dad's pet project. It had been one of the first things to go when import/export dried up. With the ferry gone, the Docks had been sort of cut off from the rest of the city unless you were willing to drive the extra half an hour to an hour.

In the beginning, my dad had held the opinion that the lack of transportation to the rest of the city was what had let the Docks get so bad. All of the gangs, the high crime rate and people with no where to go, trapped with each other.

Then ABB became what it was and he had, reluctantly, dropped his crusade. Now it was just us, the folks on the rest of the Docks, isolated along the Bay with them. It didn't even stop the gang's influence from spreading, making the ferry a pipe dream that was more likely to help ABB than hurt it.

I knew the city kept the station and the ferry looking pretty for tourists that wandered down far enough. The 'temporarily out of service' and 'coming soon' signs were replaced regularly so they kept looking new, but hadn't been taken down in nearly a decade.

Everything about the Boardwalk was pretty wrapping on something rotten.

Thoughts like that was probably why I found myself making a detour, cutting through side streets and back alleyways and feeling around with the local insects.

I didn't remember much about getting my power but what I did remember wasn't pleasant. Ignoring what had gotten me into that situation in the first place, the first thing I could recall was the sensation of splitting into hundreds of 'me.' Each with senses and feelings I couldn't understand. I pulled myself together. Eventually. Shortly afterwards, I had a habit of slipping and it had creeped a visiting Bao out.

I hoped he'd forgotten about that.

I found the 'trail' of scents and smells that led me into the heart of ABB territory. I approached from a different angle and met a small blockade of cars and a scooter. I flashed my handkerchief at the man sitting on the fire escape looking down, and headed in.

It gave me an electric, secretive feeling like having membership to an exclusive club. I didn't have a time limit or a guide to show me the approved sights. I wasn't exactly eager to see if there were restricted areas first hand, but I felt that walking along the shops _should_ be alright.

A small flower shop with cut bonsai trees and potted cactus at the end of the road was where I met Kato Yuka and Amy Dallon.

* * *

The flower shop was one of those large, L shaped stores that dominated a street corner but was trying to look like it wasn't. It didn't have a store sign or colorful awning outlining its space like the others, but when you got close enough it became apparent that it didn't need one.

The front windows were large and open to showcase what was inside. And inside looked like a fairy tale forest. Pots containing various small trees and shrubs, and some bamboo, sat alongside vases of various flowers. Some of the plants looked familiar, but the others I had no idea what they were. I didn't think anyone would know what they were.

Some of them had the same general shape as normal plants, but others edged into bizarre. Bulbous green flowers with petals that dripped in spirals, a flower that was colored and shaped like a rainbow, a jagged vine with crimson needles ran up a pole with small buds that shifted in colours, while the ones in bloom created geometrical patterns. It was strange, but also rather pretty to look at. Like a benign mad scientist playing florist.

My curiosity got the better of me and I headed right for the shop. A simplistic cursive "Yukas" sign hung on the doorknob haphazardly as an afterthought. I made a mental note about the missing apostrophe.

The door opened with a jingle and the shop's centerpiece plant took my breath away.

It was a sinuous tree that curled in ropes of bark around itself like a spiral staircase. It's leaves were broad and waxy, with flowers that had dozens of star shaped blue and white petals on thin stalks spilling out. It's branches brushed the ceiling but when you looked at it head on, the curls and angles of the wood formed a picture out of the negative space. A family. A mom and a dad, and two girls.

"I know that look."

I snapped back to attention and realized I was still holding the door open. I let it close behind me sheepishly. The speaker was a woman behind the counter with a steaming tea cup cradled in her hands. She had dark brown hair in a pixie cut topping an oval smiling face. She filled out a blue maternity shirt with a prominent baby bump.

"It's beautiful, innit?" She jerked her head back towards the far window. "And she says she isn't an artist."

The girl by the window I hadn't noticed sighed loudly over a notebook she was writing in. "I'm really not."

She had long brown hair with curl to it tied back in a french braid. Her face actually seemed familiar. Her name was on the tip of my tongue but when I reached for it, I grabbed nothing. She looked to be my age and very much not Asian. 'Yuka' at first glance didn't seem so either except for the slight curvature to her eyes.

"The tree was her idea," Yuka stage whispered. "Planned it out and everything."

"It was your idea," the girl corrected her.

"The basics was, yes." The woman smiled fondly. "The details were all you, Amy."

The name I'd been looking for slammed into my mouth. "Amy Dallon?"

Maybe a bit better known as Panacea, the former New Wave member and the greatest healer cape in the US, bar none. She'd personally saved at least several hundred lives and improved the wellness of thousands more.

She also had one critical weakness: She couldn't heal brains. Maybe her power just fizzled or it was too complicated but the end result was that her own mother was in a coma at Brockton Bay General Hospital.

Six months and counting.

Amy gave me a sideways glance with a frown on her face. " _Yes?_ "

I blinked at the almost hostile answer. Yuka laughed quietly.

"Amy," she chided gently. "Be nice."

Amy stuck out her tongue like a five year old, face all scrunched up and eyes screwed shut. "Sorry," she said eventually. "But if you want me to do something about that?" She pointed at my limp arm in my sling. "You'll owe me lunch or something."

"Lunch?" I repeated.

A bit of panic seeped into Amy's expression. "Maybe just a donut and coffee - " Yuka cleared her throat. "Lunch would be fine too. Right." She gave the older woman a look. "Anything to add?"

"You're doing fine, hun." Yuka smirked back.

Honestly, my broken hand was a legitimate excuse to stay out of school for just about as long as I wanted. That was almost enough to tip the scales by itself. On the other side was the prospect of being benched as a super hero until my injuries healed.

I opened my mouth when a thought hit me.

"Can you heal drug addictions?"

She gave me a strange look as if trying to reconcile something. "Um, I can detoxify and take care of some physical things but the cravings…" She tapped her forehead.

Good enough.

"I...have a friend." I paused to figure out how to phrase the request. I didn't want to give her too much information but at the same time I knew I had to give her something. I drew a blank. "We think she has a bomb in her spine."

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline as her mouth fell open.

"Jesus." Amy breathed.

Yeah, that was a bit tactless. I honestly didn't think I would react any better than staunch disbelief if Tattletale hadn't led up to it gradually, culminating in the incision marks on her back.

There was a porcelain clink as Yuka put her cup down. "I think it might be best if you two young ladies had this conversation somewhere more private. Perhaps in the back?"

Amy shook her head. "If it can't be said in front of you, then I'm not listening."

"I can't say too much to anyone," I admitted sourly. Amy's eyebrows creeped up before she seemed to realize something, scowling darkly. "I heard you just have to touch someone to know what's wrong with them. Is that how it works?"

Amy nodded slowly. "More or less."

I licked my lips, an idea forming. Coil was probably keeping tabs on his pets somehow, but not that closely if she was able to let things slip to me. A chance meeting on the Boardwalk? He'd have no reason to suspect. "Then what if she is nearby on that lunch?"

"That could work." Her eyes narrowed as she pointed at me. "But you'll tell me what the cloak and dagger stuff is for after, right?"

"If her life won't be in danger," I countered immediately.

Amy tilted her head and gave me a triumphant little smile. "Deal."

She held out her hand.

I took it and watched her right eyebrow quirk. "Breaks in your metacarpals, you've also got bruising on the side of your rib cage, some minor muscle lesions in your upper thigh and -" She reached up and took my glasses off my face. "Astigmatism. Done."

My vision was clear. On reflex I reached up and rubbed the bridge of my nose where a small divot scar used to be. It was where the frame of my glasses had bitten into my skin when Emma had punched me. It had gotten her suspended for three days, but that just meant she had time to think of something worse.

She hadn't been there. Safe with an alibi in a class room with a few other students willing to vouch for her but I had more than just a hunch or gut feeling that she was involved. The entire reason why I went out to the dumpster in the first place.

I never found my mother's flute.

"Thank you." I was a bit astonished, blinking. "You didn't have to do all that."

Amy's smile turned secretive. "I wanted to."

"Thank you," I said again.

An alarm rang from behind the counter and Yuka sat up straight. "Buns are ready." She nodded at me. "Do you want to try one?"

I fought the urge to look for a clock. I must have started running a little before seven. "Isn't it a bit early to be baking?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "She's always cooking something."

Yuka grimaced and placed a hand on her stomach. "That's because I'm always eating."

"When -" I stopped. It was a bit of a personal question wasn't it? It had just come to mind like a half forgotten memory of how to actually have small talk with someone who wasn't looking to use everything I said. I scrambled for something else to say to cover my blunder when Yuka smiled.

"Am I going to pop? Sometime next month."

"He's _late_." Amy said quietly and turned back to her notebook.

"He's fine." The woman waved a casual hand. "I trust you, remember? Now before those buns overcook, you girls will have to excuse me."

Amy just seemed to lose all interest in talking as soon as the woman left and buried her nose in a book, taking notes with her right hand. The book proudly proclaimed "The Human Genome - Third Edition" and had a worn cover with dog eared pages. I peeked at the notebook. Amy's eyes flickered to me for a moment, then dismissed me so I took a step closer for a better look.

It was covered with helix designs, chemistry formulas and neat handwriting.

"The store isn't officially open yet, but you can take a look around if you want," she said. I jumped a little at the sudden sales pitch. Did Amy work here part time? "You break anything, you're buying it."

"I'm more interested in what you are doing," I admitted. I didn't have much of a green thumb.

Amy hesitated.

"It's a retrovirus," she said, looking at me over the top of her book. "For gene therapy."

"You're taking college courses?" I asked.

"No, it's a project of mine, I guess. Independent study. And maybe a bit of practical work. I need to make absolutely sure it will do what I want it to do. Different kinds of cancer, different causes, it will be making changes without direct supervision so it has to be perfect." Her brows furrowed. "And careful on the propagating. The PRT can get a bit jumpy."

I caught on to what she was saying.

"You want to use a _virus_ to cure cancer?"

She slumped. "It's a bad idea, isn't it?"

"No!" I almost squealed. "It's great! You can not only cure cancer, but eliminate it. Just make it airborne and sturdy and if it corrects all the genetic defects that leads to cancer -"

"And kill the present cancer cells without killing healthy cells," she pointed out. "Some cancer types are also caused by other viruses."

"Can't you make it be able to tell the difference?"

She looked down at her notebook. "In...theory…"

The only question was how was she going to make a virus like that. On PHO the only details about Panacea was that she was a touch based healer, able to accurately diagnose you with just her fingertips and then, well, make you better. _Creating_ a virus really didn't match up with that well. Then I looked back at the tree center piece and felt stupid. If 'healing' was the only thing she could do, then she couldn't have made _that_. I had an inkling of an idea what link existed between her ability to shape trees, heal bones and make super viruses.

"Is your power _biology_?" I asked her seriously.

Amy blinked. "Yes?"

There was almost too many ways that could be abused. I grabbed hold of the fly sitting on a flower inside the shop and guided it to the table. I also swallowed every ounce of trepidation and anxiety welling up in the back of my throat. Amy was a hero's hero. She was safe.

I made the fly do loop de loops in front of her. "H-Hi, I'm Taylor."

Her face lit up with understanding. "Amy."

* * *

Making meat bun rounds with Panacea and a pregnant woman hadn't exactly been my plan when I had left the house on a jog that morning, but I was not about to complain. When I was here with Bao I was like a tourist on the Boardwalk. There, but not a local.

The New Wave family lived clear on the opposite side of the city, but right now I had a hard time believing Amy Dallon didn't live in an apartment complex just around the corner by the dragon mural. She knew several of the civilians on the street by name, across nationalities and made it a point to try and get the pronunciation right. It wasn't until I saw her reach out and brush a random passerby with her fingertips that I realized what she was also doing: checking up on them.

"My sister would patrol," she explained. "You know, be on the look out for muggings or gang violence. My power...doesn't really let me be that kind of hero." She looked down at the ground momentarily. "But I can patrol in other ways."

She didn't look like a superhero in her loose jeans and purple flower turtleneck, but then again, wasn't that the point of New Wave's unmasking schtick? It wasn't like Amy lost her powers when she didn't have her iconic white robe costume on and she didn't have an identity to hide. I didn't really think she had to have that costume on to be a hero either.

"And keep me company," Yuka added. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Liu! Have one."

Amy confronted an old man with a face full of wrinkles and liver spots smoking a pipe. "Chung. You haven't been taking your medicine. Why?"

The old man scowled. "I don't feel any different!"

"And you won't," Amy agreed pleasantly. "Until you have a _heart attack._ That's why they are doctor's orders and not doctor's _suggestions._ " Her gaze fixated on the pipe in his mouth. "I am not curing the damage from that."

"I'm a die soon anyway," he mumbled.

"Take your medicine, keep up your walks and stop smoking and you'll have another decade."

Chung blinked and squinted at her. "Really now."

"Or you can keep doing what you're doing and try me," she said dryly.

He hummed and settled back against the wall he had been leaning on. His friend chuckled and babbled something at him, nodding at Amy at the same time he said 'sheeao shuh.' He grumbled but nodded.

"Alright, I'll take the pills."

Amy smiled brightly. "Good."

"What did he call you?" I asked her when she stepped away.

She made a face. "It's Chinese for little snake." She sighed. "It's a long story."

Yuka came back just in time a few buns lighter to nudge the girl with her shoulder and tell me, "Amy's been adopted by Snake."

Amy sighed again. "Not that long apparently."

I stopped dead in the middle of the street. "Wait, really?"

"No! Not really. Really not really."

"Not legally," Yuka inserted.

"Hup-bup-bup!" Amy put a hand up in Yuka's face sternly, but I could see the woman grin around it. "You lose your talking to Taylor privileges."

Yuka started to giggle and Amy sniffed and put her nose in the air while she snagged the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "We'll be on the _other_ side of the street." I went along with her, bemused. "It really is a long story - hold on." She broke off to tap a woman that had just brushed by her on the shoulder.

Amy whispered something and the woman's face looked stricken, before bowing low and then grabbing Amy into a surprise hug. It was returned fiercely.

When she came back, "Developing brain tumor. I just let her know to get it looked at. And...Snake." She looked away, then up at the overcast sky. "She's basically my sponsor. So that I could be here."

It was obviously not the whole story. To me, Snake had been hovering around 99% disapproval, and the feeling was mutual. It wasn't difficult to tell what someone like that smiling woman would see in Amy. I was sure any gang would love to have Panacea as their personal healer, not even getting into gangs that would love having their own bio-terror weapon. "So are the rumors true then?"

She frowned. "What rumors."

She didn't know? "That you're part of ABB?"

Her frowned sharpened into a hard scowl. _"_ _No."_ Sensitive topic alert! I started to frantically apologize, but she cut me off. "I know what it looks like, I'm here and I think the people are wonderful but," she sped up a little. _"_ _I don't like Lung."_

I lengthened my stride to match her.

"You know how many people here are missing fingers or parts of fingers?" It was a rhetorical question. "It's penance, for a mistake. _Ritualized._ There's people addicted to drugs of all kinds and you know what happens to people who don't pay when told to?"

Dad made sure I never found out.

"That not counting psychos like Kali and," Amy stopped. "Honest to god whore houses. I was here last night with Yuka, talking Go out of hanging himself. He-" her voice broke. "He was in charge of the casino that got robbed recently. Security breach or something, the theives didn't even get _caught._ "

I knew what she was talking about. The Undersiders. Lung would have killed them, I wanted to say but I bit my tongue until I tasted iron.

"And you know what gets me?" She started walking again.

"No one does anything." I guessed. She was starting to sound like my father.

Amy looked at me out the corner of her eye and nodded slightly. "It's like someone is running a tally in the background. Do enough good, remind them of it," I heard the papers of her notebook crinkle in her grip. "And you can be as much of a monster as you want."

I made the decision not to tell her about the dragon handkerchief in my pocket.

Snake actually came to meet us at the end of the road, melting out of the crowd with her cane and blank smile. She was still formally dressed with what looked like a cashmere sweater and slacks. Amy brightened upon seeing her.

"Snake."

The small woman nodded. "Amy." Her dark eyes traveled to me. "Taylor," she acknowledged and just as quickly dismissed me. "Progress?"

"I'll see you around, I hope Taylor?" Amy peered up at me earnestly.

"I owe you lunch," I reminded her. It also reminded me that unlike myself, Amy probably had school later today. "Um, Saturday at 1? Boardwalk?" I searched my mind for a good meeting place and only one came to mind. "Boat statue."

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, sobering. "I'll be there."

I smiled tightly. I'd have to relay the meeting to Lisa, but I was reasonably sure she wouldn't turn down the chance.

Yuka caught up to me with her bun tray greatly depleted, only about four lumps showed through the damp cloth that had been placed over them. "Sorry, sorry, today's Wednesday, isn't it?" She nodded in the direction of Amy's back as she showed off pages in her notebook to Snake as they walked off. "Mad science day, here, do you have to leave soon?"

I shook my head.

"Well," she pumped a fist in the air. "Do you mind accompanying me to my last stop?"

I didn't mind. I also had something I wanted to ask her. "What do you think about ABB?"

Yuka settled the tray against her distended stomach and turned off the main road. "It's like a rum filled dark chocolate," was her answer.

I raised my eyebrows. "You are going to have to explain that one."

"I had one of those." She gave me a look. " _Once._ It looked good and I knew going in what it was, but it wasn't until I actually bit into it that I discovered that I really didn't know. It was bitter, and alcoholy but at the same time the chocolate was divine and it had a few nuts and caramel. I was allergic to the nuts. Mixed success."

She handed me one of the four buns and told me in no uncertain terms, eat. I bit into it obediently and instantly tasted why Amy had stolen one before we set off. There were green onions, meaty tasting mushrooms and scrambled egg mixed with a savory pork in the middle. The bun itself was soft, slightly sweet and still warm. I scarfed it down.

Off the main road, the surroundings seemed to quiet. The bustle of people faded into the background to be replaced by a stillness. It was more of a residential section, I thought, judging by the heaters stuck in windows and the presence of drapes. Quite a few had lights on, but other people were still fast asleep.

I briefly wondered if Bao lived here.

"A lot of things are held together by Lung's sheer force of will, you know. This isn't possible without her. Some elements don't blend well with others, some don't make any kind of sense and a lot is…" For a moment, Yuka's expression teetered on the edge of brittle and she ran a hand over her tummy. "Bad. But what it does right, well." She shrugged. "It's not something you would want to complain about, hmm? And what you would, what can you do? She has the strength to back it up." She adopted a cartoonishly thick Japanese accent.

"She is our divine mandate from heaven."

"Because she's a cape," I finished for her.

Yuka's face was neutral with her eyebrows only slightly angled downward in a not-expression that could have meant any number of things. Her fingers were still curled around the pan, looking for all the world that she wasn't really bothered by the idea that someone who stumbled into superpowers could rule over her. Just because they had powers and she didn't.

"It is much like the old days. The ones you read about in history books, well, maybe not so much in our public education system," she said with a bit of sarcastic cheer. "But when I was a little girl, my grandmother used to tell me stories of the samurai and the lords they swore loyalty to. Fantastical ones, with dragons and ghosts, evil spirits and gods, you know? That's what I see here, like a reenactment of the feudal period."

Dragon murals on the walls staking out territory and a metaphorical palace on the hill.

I could see a bit of what she was saying. Like Kaiser's knight theme, the PR for the Protectorate or the Guild in Canada, the various independent superhero teams across the country all that in common: making them seem larger than life. I tried to imagine how it must have been for those people who had grown up in a time without any parahumans at all, only to have that all flipped upside down when Scion arrived and the first superheroes began to emerge on the scene.

They even called it the "Golden Age" of heroes. Comics and shows about fake heroes dreamed up in imagination were replaced by _real_ heroes. It was almost a fantasy grounded in reality.

"Lung's power makes her seem mystical." I mused out loud. Dragons tended to do that.

Yuka thought that over, chewing on her bottom lip. "She plays up to that, I think. Although I suppose if I could turn into a fifty foot dragon by getting angry enough, I would abuse the _hell_ out of that."

I couldn't help but smile.

Yuka's jovial mood faded. "A lot of those myths end in tragedy, even the ones with dragons in them."

She led me down a side alley, chatting non stop. I could see why Amy liked her. Yuka was one of those outgoing people that simply decided she was a friend of yours, and then did her best to live up to that title without asking anything in return. It reminded me of Emma a bit.

Before everything.

She carried the conversation, telling me about her old apartment in New York and her shop. Her mother lived in Boston with her younger brother who was still in college going for a business degree.

She had, in her words, a 5th grader's understanding of Japanese and couldn't be bothered to get better at it.

"English has twenty six letters. You know how many kanji I'd have to learn to read a newspaper? Over two friggin' thousand. _God._ I'm _done_ with school, thank you very much."

"Two _thousand?_ "

"Chinese is even worse!"

Her father had been at Kyushu.

"We have a memorial," she had blurted out. "It's out of the way and not really something 'outsiders' see because it would be...rude? Not quite the word, but other people seeing it, who don't know is…"

Like someone you don't know at your mother's funeral, offering empty condolences.

"I get it."

She looked at me and gave a tiny, watery laugh. "Now I've gone and spoiled everything. Yes, let's talk about loss and suffering this morning, Yuka. Great idea." She shook her head. "I talk too much, really."

Our destination seemed to be a dead end between two brick apartment buildings lined with dumpsters and identical fire escapes scrawling up their sides in metal zig zags.

I spotted the familiar face first. Noriko was seated on the lower rungs of the fire escape with her legs hanging over the railing and her back against the ladder. She was bundled up a little with tight jeans and black boots that went up her calves, a dark green corduroy jacket over a red turtle neck completed the picture.

A woman sat on a landing higher up despondently, just leaning listlessly against the side as if she was just waiting for the railing to give way and dump her on the ground. She wore gray rumpled sweats and short matted black hair. A long cardboard box was opened next to her and in her lap was a sword with a black blade.

They made a strange pair. Noriko wouldn't have looked out of place on the Boardwalk with the tourists or downtown at the higher class stores. The other woman looked homeless.

Noriko's eyebrows jumped when she saw me. "Danny's kid, Taylor, right?"

"Noriko," I returned, nodding. I had no idea what else to say. Are you a gang member too? Was I just assuming that all Asians within a certain age range were ABB? Were they? Did thinking so make me racist?

"This is...awkward." She looked around the street as if trying to spot a camera. I got the feeling she wasn't sure what to say either. "Did you..join?" She made a vague, aborted hand motion in the air. "You know…"

"Technically."

"Don't." Yuka said. Noriko's eyes shifted over to her. "You don't need to get involved with any of that."

Noriko shrugged. "She has her reasons, Kato."

"Oh really?" Yuka turned to me. "Do you have a burning need to spend a lot of time around psychopaths, murderers, rapists or _all of the above?"_

I stared at her and felt my gut clench. That was the bad Lung had said she was weeding out of ABB. "Not...particularly…"

ABB did have a lot of fear around it, and it had it for a reason. I was having a hard time swallowing it though. I thought about everything here and the people; trying to reconcile Bao visiting me in the hospital and someone like Oni Lee as belonging to the same group wasn't working.

Amy seemed to think that was the point.

Yuka whirled back around. "Now you tell me Lung doesn't have some _troubled_ people on her payroll. Go ahead, Nitta."

Noriko opened her mouth and then closed it. Yuka got a 'ha!' expression on her face that was eerily similar to the triumphant little smile Amy had given me earlier. The exchange left me feeling a little confused. Obviously, they didn't see eye to eye on everything but they were friends, I thought. How much of that was because they liked hanging around each other and how much was Yuka's extreme extrovert personality was hard to say.

"They were worse before," Noriko murmured.

Yuka placed her hands on her hips. "I'd rather they not be around at all."

That got her a frowning, thoughtful look. "Noted."

I looked up at the other woman hesitantly, wondering if she was going to respond. She was still staring at the sword, oblivious to the world. Yuka placed the tray with the remaining buns on the lowest landing, standing on her tippy toes in order to reach it.

"That's Nabiki," Yuka told me.

"Make sure she eats today," I could barely make out Noriko's whisper to her. She leaned forward precariously. I honestly expected her to slip off at any moment.

"I will." Yuka promised.

"And your boy?" Noriko settled back against the rusting ladder.

"He's fine," Yuka stressed and patted her stomach. "You ask every day." She perked up suddenly like a cat that caught sight of a juicy bird. "Want one of your own?"

Noriko grimaced. "I can just spoil yours."

"That wasn't a no!"

"Possible," Noriko allowed and Yuka literally bounced on the spot in excitement. "But not likely. I have enough 'children' to take care of at work."

The crumpled woman above us, Nabiki, turned her head slightly to stare down at Noriko. She rasped something in Japanese I had no hope of understanding but Noriko leaned her head back to stare up.

"Lung," she answered blandly.

Nabiki's grip on the sword tightened and she went quiet again. Noriko frowned up at her and shrugged at Yuka before sighing.

"Were you showing Taylor around, Kato?"

Yuka leaned against the wall and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Yes, could you take that up for me? I was thinking the memorial."

Noriko's face tightened, then relaxed. She pointed at me. "You show any disrespect and I'll beat it out of you, understand?"

I was pretty sure she meant that literally. She didn't have what I would consider a powerful build, but it was athletic and the look on her face was as serious as a heart attack. I nodded quickly.

She pulled her legs up over the railing and made her way down, hopping the last three or four feet to the ground.

The curiosity burned in my stomach with the meat bun as I slowly followed her out of the alley. "Is...is Nabiki going to be okay?"

Noriko smiled slightly as she seemed to pick a random direction, spinning on her heel. "Bravest coward I know."

Talk about a backhanded compliment.

"What did she ask you?" Something about this, looking at her back was familiar.

"Who gave her the sword."

"Lung does that?" For some reason, I wasn't surprised. Because giving random people live steel just _seemed_ in character. Like I said, larger than life.

Noriko's lips curved mischievously. "Sometimes. Why, want one?"

That sounded like a terrible idea.

"My father would kill me."

Noriko chuckled.

The sound of it...Deja vu.

Walking the streets with Noriko was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Amy and Yuka both had the same approach to the moving crowd of people on the main street; greeting everyone by name and showing an interest in how they were doing. Caretakers, in a very real way. It was how I imagined my father approached his job. He remembered histories, names and faces and made it something personal to him when they were going through hard times. In comparison, Noriko was distant.

I didn't mean that in a bad way. It was like comparing a hug to a handshake. She was less involved but not unkind. If someone called out to her she responded but most of the time it was just a look of recognition, a smile or a nod. It was an attitude that didn't demand attention.

Just another face on the street.

The number of people had started to increase as the morning wore on and more woke up to face the day. I saw dozens of people starting to crowd the food stores and bakeries for breakfast or morning shopping. I saw the bakery Bao had taken me too, with the same tubby baker out in the front scrawling on the chalkboard.

Noriko followed my eyes and then glanced back at me. "Hungry?"

"No!" I felt my face burn a little. "I just...a friend introduced me to the food there. Just recognized it."

"Never had any from there." She gave the bakery a considering look then turned back to me. "Good?"

I nodded, "At least, what I had was good."

A bike rider zoomed past us on the side of the street, male with a blue blazer and laptop bag. He raised a hand, "Hey, Taylor!"

My hand raised reflexively, startled, before I realized who that had been. Neal from Bao's group, off to work.

I stopped walking.

It was a stupid, childish reaction to someone just saying 'hi' and at the same time, I kind of felt like it was long overdue. I'd only met him once, but we all seemed to have fun but after a year of being the social pariah at school I honestly didn't expect - Maybe it was just the fact that it was early, and it was completely unexpected in a place where I could count the number of people I recognized on one hand but my eyes started to prickle. I closed them stubbornly and tried to take a deep, calming breath.

It didn't work.

Noriko's sure footsteps carried her back to me. I waited for her to say something, ask if I was alright or mock me or something, anything when a tear slipped free. She was quiet. I stiffened when I felt the weight of her hand settle on my shoulder and squeeze light as a feather. She took a step forward, pushing me along slightly.

I took a step and when I didn't immediately fall flat on my face off a curb, I relaxed minutely. I scrambled to get control of myself, surreptitiously wiping my face on my sweatshirt sleeve. It wasn't until I opened my eyes again that I realized we were still walking and that she'd been guiding me.

I stepped forward quickly and she let me slip out from under her hand.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled.

"Better?" She absently brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear as she studied my face.

"Yes," I tried to say confidently, an effect slightly marred by the raspy note to my voice.

"Good," was all she said. And that was that.

We wound our way through the grid of streets and crossings, until we got to a point where the mass of buildings just stopped. Perhaps it would be more accurate to stay, they opened up. It was exactly the same kind of thing you would see on the south side of town with the more expensive studios and apartments, the city development trying to make it look less like an urban gridlock by planting a few trees in the middle. Except that no sane politician would clear out a few buildings for it.

That was my first impression of the garden: huge.

My second impression was the kind that stayed with you forever.

The garden was unlike any I had seen before. White sand made looping, spiraling, abstract patterns that cut through short, brilliant green grass and moss. At a few places, the corners mainly, large rocks of all shapes were embedded and someone had made indented concentric circles in the sand around each one.

In the center, arranged like a clock face were plots of blooming rose bushes. Red buds dominated a sector to the east, a trail of the white sand separating it from a plot filled with pink buds. White roses were next to them and then pale blue. Dark blue, purplish and wrapping back around to red.

In the large circle at the dead center were a collection of eclectic pieces. Small statues, wood carvings, a fine set of china and various knick knacks. A stone slab stood stoically in the middle. Arcing across the entire garden was half of a simple, stately miniature white suspension bridge.

I could only imagine what the garden would look like in full bloom, but what was there was peaceful, sombre and I felt like I could linger forever. There were only a few other visitors, silent. They touched the slab or placed flowers at the base before moving on.

"It's designed like the Kanoya Rose Garden," Noriko said softly. "That's gone now." She pointed at the bridge. "Kanmonkyo. It connected the island to Honshu. That's," she cleared her throat. "That's gone too."

"How did you get this all built?" I knew it couldn't have been cheap. Not when something as small and inoffensive as getting the ferry operational again had a projected budget of several tens of thousands.

"We already had the space." She looked around and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Condemned buildings. There was a smaller garden here before." She shuffled around uncomfortably. "Lung _may_ have helped."

"Footing the bill?" I grinned when Noriko rolled her eyes.

"The least she could do." She nodded her head towards the stone slab at the center. "That's where we put the names. Not everyone." I felt my grin slip. It was a large rock, essentially a rough monolith of granite nearly five feet high, but it didn't have enough space for the butcher's bill of over eight million lives. Behemoth killed heroes, reducing our ability to defend ourselves. The cities the Simugh visited were usually quarantined, filled with people that were ticking time bombs, ready to snap and go on a killing spree. That killed morale.

Lung had pushed Leviathan further than anyone but Eidolon had ever pushed an Endbringer before. And the end result? An entire island wiped off the map. That killed hope.

Noriko sighed quietly. "Just those we knew."

"Did you…?" I bit my tongue and the sudden burst of pain reminded me that I had gnawed on it violently before.

Noriko shifted. "My mother put my father up there." She shrugged nonchalantly but her lips twisted. "Never cared for him personally." She tilted her head, still looking at the memorial. "God, that bridge is gaudy, isn't it?" she blurted out as if just seeing it for the first time.

"A little," I admitted. "But I like it."

She looked at me. "Why? It's," she waved at it. "It's just _there_."

"Symbolism." She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "It's a bridge," I began, finding myself drawing on a half forgotten lecture on symbolism in literature my mother had shared with me once. Poems. "Bridges have always been about connecting people and that's what this does, doesn't it?"

I felt a bit of shame at realizing that I let things like that slide, reading. When was the last time I actually bothered to take notes during English class or spent the weekend at the library finding new books to read?

Noriko got a quirky little smile as she shifted her eyes between me and the bridge. "I think it was just a big expensive thing to Lung. But…" She nudged me with her shoulder. "I like your version better."

"You don't like Lung very much, do you?" I asked her.

"I like her just fine," Noriko said indignantly. "Like you could like a friend and still want to hit them for being stupid."

I thought about Lung's metal mask and how she just punched into a brick wall. "You'd probably break your hand."

"Still want to do it," she growled. "You know how much damage she caused? Just _her._ How many lives were lost because she didn't want to lose a pissing contest with an Endbringer?"

My head was telling me that I should just let the topic drop. Noriko's body language was getting increasingly tense, but none of it was directed at I felt like I needed to _know._ Who was Lung, really? "Is that how you saw it?"

"How else could I see it? She didn't even notice the island was _sinking!_ " I could see her balled fists in her pockets and she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

A lightbulb went off in my head. "She warned me about something like that, I think."

"Then maybe she's learned her fucking lesson," Noriko spat. "Maybe she's," she hunched her shoulders. "...learned."

I didn't know what to say. The silence was that special kind of awkward, where you didn't want to break it because you couldn't see any way of making it better, but the topic wasn't going to die a natural death.

Noriko's cell phone ringing loudly spared us.

Her expression morphed into a long suffering one with a bit of exasperated amusement. "That's not yours, is it?" she asked hopefully.

I just gave her a flat look.

She sighed. "Didn't think so. I should take this. You'll be fine on your own?"

I huffed. I seemed to be picking up chaperones like I was making a collection. "Thank you for guiding me here, I'll be fine."

Her eyes shifted to a point above my shoulder, looking at the far side of the garden and then back, "Respect this place." She drifted back to the memorial stone. "There are a lot of ghosts here."

She accepted the phone call and walked past me to a bench on the outskirts of the garden. I followed the cobbled stone path deeper in towards the monolith.

The stone had a lot of names on it. Every square inch of the flat, polished surface was etched with symbols and letters. I found myself reaching out but stopped myself before my fingertips could touch it.

The base of the stone was decorated with bundles of flowers. The mementoes were spread a bit farther out. Sometimes it was a picture, laminated to protect it from the elements. A cup or bowl. Toys. A beautiful wooden chest caught my eye, as did a plastic flute case. The garden was still and nearly empty but as I stood there in front of the names, my chest was tight.

Noriko was right. There were a lot of ghosts here.

I stared at the flute case.

I knew what I was going to do for the rest of my morning. I had a ghost of my own to visit.


	7. Interlude, Laserdream

**Interlude, Laserdream**

* * *

It had been at least half a year, but Crystal didn't think she would ever get used to flying over the blinking lights of downtown towards the PRT building as if she belonged there. It was where the government heroes belonged, signed and stamped by a public relations machine and hidden away from the rest of the city by code names and costumes. Part of her saw the need, for their own safety and all that with the masks and the protocols and the rules but most of her just saw something sad.

It was like shoring up the crumbling foundations of an abandoned building. Heroes, the beacons of justice and larger than life paragons. In Brockton Bay, that ideal was dead.

As far as she was concerned, it died the moment her father did.

She touched down on the pavement, wishing it was the grass of their lawn at home instead and also wishing she had thought to do more of her homework beforehand. South Side patrol tonight, why'd it have to be South Side?

'I should have swapped with Clockblocker', she thought.

Patrolling ABB territory was like patrolling the border of another country with a cease fire in effect. Toeing the invisible line in the dirt, tense, waiting for the other side to make a move and break the truce. For most of them anyway. Piggot had pulled Carlos off of ABB duty, indefinitely, because his version of "patrolling" was picking a random fight, getting beat up and then going home.

Assault had gotten yanked for the exact same reason.

The building housing the local Parahuman Response Team division was just like all of the other buildings. The exterior was all windows, reflective enough to mirror the sky overhead and passing headlights of cars. An office building on the outside that could have been anything from insurance, to sales. Only the shield logo bearing the letters 'P.R.T.' marked it apart.

The glass door hissed open as she approached it, inviting. Never mind the half a dozen scanners embedded in the metal door frame or the wall camera that immediately oriented on her face, the observer behind it itching to punch the alarm.

She'd always thought the lobby was kind of schizophrenic.

A pair of employees in suits skirted around her, leaving at the end of a long work day and entirely unremarkable. Then there were the small team of four PRT officers on standby, each stationed at different areas of the lobby and outfitted with the best equipment money could buy. All wore the standard exoskeleton that acted as a force multiplier over their tinkertech composite body armor.

Their firearms were incorporated into the skeleton, mostly. Tasers, EMP, rubber bullets, just self defense items. Offense was slung across their chests in bandoliers of specialty ammunition and grenades like they were starring in a Rambo movie. One still had the foam sprayer, a flame thrower looking weapon that spewed hardening foam and used to be a staple. They were being phased out and the excess sent to other branches.

The 'P' in P.R.T could have been changed to stand for 'Paramilitary' instead and no one would have noticed.

Then there was the gift shop.

When school ended there was always a small crowd of teens eyeing the action figures, posters, video games or clothing. Four-foot tall pictures of the various Protectorate and Wards team members were placed at regular intervals around the lobby, each backed by bright colors. The PR machine at work.

The tour guide would sit behind the front desk with the expression of a Walmart greeter, a 24/7 tired smile. On schedule, he would introduce tourists and children to the PRT offices, the armory, the training area and the parking lot with the parahuman containment vans, showing them what it took to manage the local heroes.

Like a police department's K-9 unit, proudly showing off what they accomplished with the help of their trained pets.

Bark, bark, woof, woof.

It was too late for a tour and all the kids had gone home. The lobby just had its watchers and the empty front desk with the sign 'Be right with you!' perched on it next to an intercom button. She checked the time on the large clock on the wall above the door behind the desk, before heading in. Early.

She turned the doorknob. Dauntless and Hanabi were already inside.

"Hey," Hanabi said. The eraser under her fingers poofed into perfectly arched rainbow. "Crap." She sighed and reached over the table where Dauntless nudged another small eraser her way.

"Watanabe," Crystal said with a strained smile as she sat down.

'Not her fault,' she reminded herself. That didn't stop her from remembering her aunt's still body in the hospital bed, all of her external injuries healed but the mind asleep. 'Not her fault, get a grip.'

"How's, um, how's your uncle doing?" Watanabe looked up at her like a puppy dog hoping for good news.

No longer on suicide watch and the rest of them finally felt like they'd be able to breath. Victoria seemed to take making sure he took his medicine like a sacred duty, come hell or high water.

"Better."

The girl sighed in relief and rolled her new eraser around. "That's good."

They chatted lightly about general things, school mostly. The younger Ward was finally getting her transfer to Arcadia pushed through from Immaculata and would be in the next batch of 'decoys.' She didn't even know what the point of that bit of nonsense was. With a name like 'Hanabi' anyone not looking for an Asian student was retarded, and she doubted there were that many available to even be a decoy.

The P.R.T might surprise her, probably by insisting they might have given a dark haired caucasian girl a Japanese name _just because_. She wouldn't be holding her breath.

Crystal did not bring up Carol and Hanabi didn't ask.

When Carlos came through the door in costume with his mask hanging from his right hand, she let a tiny bit of her anxiety drain. He sat next to her and found her hand, entwining his fingers. She smiled.

"So!" He said cheerily. "Nazi time."

"South Side patrol time," Dauntless corrected mildly. "If it becomes 'Nazi time' you are calling it in and booking your asses back to base."

"And we do nothing," Carlos said. "Again."

"I didn't say that," the hero murmured. "Did I? I could have sworn I said 'Nazi time' was bad, but if it so happens to be a couple of petty criminals breaking the law, well." He shrugged. "That's too bad for them, isn't it?'

Hanabi's eraser became a yellow flower of light. "You are so much better than Armsmaster," she whispered.

"Don't chase them," Dauntless warned. "Stay safe, watch each others backs and don't fight if you don't have to." He eyed Carlos. "Understood?"

"Nazis have no sense of humor," her boyfriend said. "Who knew?"

"You have been spending way too much time around Dennis," she told him.

"I expect you all back before eleven. You've got five minutes of leeway before I throw up the search lights." Dauntless paused there and rubbed at the stubble on his chin uncomfortably. He looked at each of them in the eye. "If something comes up, call. I'm not losing any of you on my watch."

He handed out the ear bud radios and double checked to make sure that they were working. Carlos pulled on his mask, becoming Aegis and Hanabi grabbed a handful of the small erasers.

Dauntless raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have your marbles?"

"Yeah, but I want to try something and don't want to overwrite."

He sighed. "You aren't allowed to directly manipulate time, space- "

"I know!" She whined. "I was thinking tranquilizers of some kind, or power null field?" She smiled hopefully.

"The field I'll give a pass on," he said slowly. "But don't try to directly shut someone down until we put it through testing. We don't want you accidently killing someone."

'Or putting them in a coma,' Crystal thought.

Hanabi winced and put the erasers down. "Never mind," she said in a small voice. "I'll just use what I have." She grabbed her hover board from the corner of the room, one of Kid Win's projects and all three of them marched out into the street. Crystal took to the air first followed by Aegis, and then Hanabi once the board kicked into gear.

 _"PRT to Laserdream, can you read me?"_ crackled through the bud in her ear.

"Yes." Answering to an authority that wasn't her mother still made her squirm a little. "We're going to start with Lawrence Park and go from there."

 _"Sounds good. Things have been quiet lately, let's hope it stays that way."_

"I thought I was team leader," Aegis teased her and she rolled her eyes.

"Did you want to take another route, great team leader?"

"Oh no, no, I'll just be following your lead. Enjoying the view."

She shoved him and he tumbled out of the air dramatically flailing, catching himself just before he slammed into the side of a building. He stopped there, staring into a nearby window and she could hear him chuckling weakly.

"I think I nearly gave an old cleaning lady a heart attack," he mumbled when he rejoined them.

Hanabi pulled up beside him. "Good effort, but it will take more than that to dethrone Shadow Stalker."

Aegis snorted. "No one wants to dethrone Shadow Stalker."

"The mask sees electricity," Hanabi growled in a rough approximation of Sophia Hess. "There was no electricity, how the fuck was I supposed to know it was a boy's locker room shower!?"

Crystal cracked a grin. "And the most awkward Heroic Entry award goes to…"

* * *

They ran into trouble three hours in.

The sound of what seemed like a really violent car accident reached Crystal's ears and she lifted herself instinctively, higher until the tops of the buildings stopped blocking her sight. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Yup," Aegis' voice was augmented by their radios. "Got nothing so far."

"West," Hanabi said.

Crystal didn't question how the girl knew that, turning. A store front's large window was sporting a car crashed through the front of it and she felt her lip curl. Probably refused to pay for 'protection' this month, subject to a vicious smash and grab, classic. "Empire."

"Keep an eye out, Laser," Aegis ordered. "I'll head down first. Hanabi, cover me."

"You got it."

Crystal felt something cold and hard form in her chest as she watched her boyfriend touch ground as she floated above. Her fingertips itched as she searched the skyline and the corners of the street. Nothing. 'Didn't mean anything,' she thought a bit desperately. More could show up at any time, like cockroaches when the lights were out.

"Come out with your hands up!" Aegis yelled.

The response was immediate. "Oh you have to be fucking kidding me."

Aegis' gaze honed in on store when the door opened casually and out stepped a girl dressed like a wizard, a long blue and red overcoat and cowl shadowing her face and a black scarf obscuring her chin. "The boy scouts showed up. Really? Fuck."

Crystal tensed when the girl brushed the glass of the door with her fingers. Then she seemed to change her mind and bent to touch the concrete front step. Better, slightly. The step, the sidewalk and curb broke apart with spidering cracks as if struck with an invisible concussive force and chunks began to rise into the air.

Rune of E88, capable of 'attuning' herself to a material like glass with a touch, and then in a terrifying display of telekinetics, was able to control all of the attuned material in her range with her mind.

She had a moment of being glad her brother wasn't with them, and then really, really wishing he was.

"Don't make this hard on yourself," Aegis said confidently. Crystal could already tell that he had grown a bit taller and she knew that under his costume his skin was hardening. "We can talk this out like civilised people, can't we?"

Rune laughed derisively. "Not alone, fuckwit."

Walking out from behind her wearing his provocative Nazi soldier uniform and theater mask of a smiling man with a mustache and goatee, was Regent.

'This was already a win,' she found herself thinking. If Rune was willing to try and kill them she would have stuck to glass, and any information on Regent's abilities was information they currently didn't have.

"Heil," he said.

"Really?" Rune hissed at him.

"It's two versus three," Hanabi swooped down on her board, marbles already between her fingers. "Don't be dumb."

"If you really think I'm going to listen to anything the Jap says, you don't know me very well," Rune ignored her entirely, eyes still locked on Aegis.

Aegis took that opening. "So when she says 'don't be dumb,' that means…" A flying chunk of concrete cut him off.

"Wait, wait, wait," Regent held up his hands and carefully stepped out into the open by the crashed car. Rune hesitated, glancing at him. "Would you believe we were out on a date?" He asked seriously.

"No," Aegis said dryly, tensing.

Rune's reply was non-verbal, nailing Regent in the stomach with an errant piece of rubble.

"Domestic abuse!" He gasped out, sounding horrified. "You all saw it, arrest her or something."

"How about we take you both in?" Crystal gritted out from above.

Regent straightened and pretended to think about it. Aegis leapt at him, hoping for a quick takedown but at the last second his feet seemed to stick to the ground, sending him skidding painfully on the pavement.

Regent tsked. "How about no?"

Rune took that as her cue, launching a huge section of concrete at Aegis. Crystal's heart leapt into her throat and light leapt from her hands, smashing through it. Pieces pelted Aegis as he bounded up to his feet, his skin turning silver.

"Three!" Hanabi called out and threw a marble. It exploded between them, light reaching out, grasping.

Regent scrambled over the trunk of the car. She bored a hole in the pavement in front of him. "Stick around for a bit!" She called down and scattered her shots to the edges, keeping the Empire capes hemmed in. She was careful, a poor shot could easily be lethal.

Rune swamped Hanabi's trap with concrete shards, pulling up more concrete only to get tackled around the midsection by Aegis.

"Don't," he started.

Rune slapped a hand on his chest, and his costume launched him away.

Crystal fought the urge to go after him as he disappeared over the roof of a building. He'd be fine, hopefully.

Hanabi hauled her arm back, but her throw jerked wildly. Crystal's only warning as she fired between Rune and the car was a hasty "Shit!" before light exploded at the edge of her peripheral and grabbed her in an octopus hold. She projected her shield reflexively, and it just as quickly crumpled.

Regent barked out a laugh. "Stick around for a while!"

She sped to Hanabi's side. "Get this off me!"

"Sorry!" Hanabi wailed. The light fizzled and broke into colored motes.

"You know what?" Rune's voice rang out. With a heavy groan and tinkling glass, the car lifted into the air under her fingers. "You guys are fucking annoying."

Hanabi fished out a marble. "Four," she whispered. 'Four?' Laserdream repeated in her head. 'There was no four.' There was a flash of light.

Time slowed as the car rocketed towards them. The hood was dented, the grille crumpled and the windshield cracked into jagged lightning bolts spidering across. A pair of fuzzy dice swung from the rearview mirror. It filled her vision, no room to move, no room to dodge. She lifted her hands anyway, preparing to try to cut through.

Light slammed down from the sky like the fist of an angry god.

The car disappeared with a squeal of protesting metal and a shudder rumbling through the ground. Crystal looked up, swallowing.

There floating above them and sheathed in brilliant white light was Purity.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Aegis' red and gold costume inch closer. She shook her head so fast, her neck creaked.

"This ends now." The woman said simply.

Rune seethed. "What the fuck, Pur-"

"You heard me," Purity snapped back.

Regent raised his hand. "Going. Right now."

Rune stared defiantly, for about three seconds. "Fine."

Crystal didn't relax even after they left. Purity hung there in the sky like a star, staring at the broken store front despondently. 'Should I be calling this in?' she wondered. Purity hadn't been seen active for at least a month by this point, then she shows up and is...on their side?

That would be too good to be true.

"Crystal Pelham?" Purity questioned, turning back to them.

"...Yes?"

For a long moment the woman was quiet.

"I'm sorry about your father."

"I.." before she could even respond, Brockton Bay's strongest Blaster just flew away. Crystal stared after her blankly.

Hanabi sighed loudly. "I'm done for the night," she said shakily. "Who's with me?"

Aegis coughed. "I don't have pissing off Purity on my agenda either. Laser?"

She jerked and looked back at them. "Um, sure." She turned back. The storefront was completely trashed by the short skirmish. The sidewalk was non-existent and even the front step was gone. The damage from the car alone would likely cost the owner's insurance several thousand dollars and as to whoever owned that car...It was embedded in a deep hole in the street, the center melted to slag. "I'm fine with that."

Her only consolation was that most of the damage was done by the villains.

A thought struck her. "Hanabi."

"Hmm?" The girl recovered her hoverboard and stepped onto it.

"What was four?"

The Japanese Ward cringed. "Something I'll have to tell Piggot about, probably. You should be fine. I think."

Her voice raised shrilly. "What was four!?"


	8. Preying Mantis

**Preying Mantis**  
A few steps after my sneakers stopped clunking down on sidewalk concrete blocks and started stomping on the wooden platform, I stopped. I put both hands on the railing as I looked out over the beach, pumping my calves to keep the blood flowing. It was just a gut feeling, I didn't exactly have evidence for it, but as my fingers curled into the wood I couldn't help but think that Amy had done a bit more than just heal me.

I felt _great._

The run had been easier, like picking up something you thought was twenty pounds only to discover that it was actually fifteen. My legs weren't aching as much as I was used to and I felt lighter. All of the small aches and pains were gone, made better by how much lighter I felt.

I'd unloaded a lot of garbage at Mom's gravesite yesterday. Just, talking about things. I wasn't ready to share all with my father yet, Emma and everything, but I felt like I could get there. This morning's conversation I had just come straight out with him that I had met Amy and she had healed my hand in exchange for lunch. Being able to be honest with him, for once it seemed, felt good. Keeping things bottled up was doing us both a disservice.

But that was a concern for later.

I straightened up and power walked the rest of the way to the Boardwalk.

People were just starting their business day. Most places were still closed, with top notch security systems, steel shutters and iron grates protecting all of the expensive stores, but there were cafes and restaurants opening up for the breakfast crowd. Other stores had vans parked out front, and were busy uploading their shipments. There were only a few people out and about, which made it very easy to find Lisa.

She was leaning on the wooden railing, looking out over the Bay and munching on what looked like a cheese croissant. Balanced on the railing next to her was a cardboard tray with a coffee in the north east and south west pockets with a small pile of napkins in the middle and, strangely, a light blue plastic lunchbox.

I slowed down to a walk and came to a stop beside her.

She glanced over with a little smile on her face. "Bug."

I rolled my eyes. "Tattletale."

She looked different than she had when I saw her Monday. No denim or T shirts, for one but nice gray pants and a green designer sweater-shirt that hung long with a high collar. The biggest change was that she looked healthier with her hair done up and without the exhaustion lines on her face. On Monday, she had seemed like just another teenager down on their luck. If she told me now that her father was the CEO of Medhall, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

"It's Hachi now," I added and leaned on the railing with her.

She gave me an unreadable look. "Congratulations." She bit into her croissant a tad viciously. "So how's having Lung as a boss?"

"She's not," I said a bit defensively. "My boss that is."

"You're adorable," Lisa said with a grin. "If she tells you to do something, are you really going to say no?"

"That's not really fair. You wouldn't say no to her face either," I countered.

"Neither would half of the Protectorate and a chunk of E88," Lisa said and finished off her breakfast. "And that's the reality. Lung would literally own this city if she wasn't playing nice. But she is." Lisa frowned. "And I think that was a mistake."

"Are you blaming her for all of this?"

For a moment, Lisa looked surprised. "Huh. Guess I am a bit." She sighed and hung her head. "Never mind me." I caught the edge of her wan smile as she stared at a crab slowly scuttling across the sand. I checked around us and then took control of it, making it do figure eights. She caught on to what I was doing almost immediately, laughing quietly.

"So, you met the illustrious Amy Dallon?"

"That obvious?" I replied dryly, holding up my good as new hand. "She was nice and a bit more studious than I was expecting. Did you know she's trying to cure cancer?"

"It's a good thing she's a hero," Lisa said simply.

I briefly imagined a super villain wielding the power of biology and came up with Bonesaw of the Slaughterhouse Nine. I shuddered.

"It's a shame what happened to New Wave," Lisa said softly.

"Was it ABB's fault?" I had to ask. I didn't think so, it didn't come up but the death of a family member wasn't something everyone would be willing to even hint at. I would know.

"It wasn't anyone's fault, not really." She pried one of the coffees from the tray loose and handed it to me. Startled, I took it. It was one of those fifteen dollar cappuccinos from the cafes with sugary cream on the top. "It happens. The only one that came out of that clusterfuck smelling like roses was the Protectorate. Luck, I'm guessing."

Luck. I didn't like the sound of that. I let go of the crab but it just sat there, as if it couldn't remember what it was it had been doing before the impromptu dance session. I gave it a mental 'Get on with your life, citizen' nudge and it scuttled away.

I smiled, watching it go. "I got Amy to agree taking a look at you."

Lisa choked on her coffee, stepping back from the railing as a bit dribbled down her chin and stained the Boardwalk with wet droplets. She grabbed a napkin from the top of the tray. "You...what?" She warded off my answer with a wave of her coffee. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, frowning. "She can help."

"If running to New Wave was a valid tactic, I would have done it already." Lisa told me bluntly. "Not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me, really I do, but…"

I gritted my teeth. "Coil can't have thought of everything."

Lisa smirked. "He didn't, but I'm pretty sure accounting for world famous Panacea is a no brainer."

"The addiction at least?" I slurped up some of the cream on my cappuccino.

"You mean reset my body's tolerance so that the next time, I'll probably OD on accident? No thanks."

"It can't hurt just to check," I pleaded. I wasn't sure I could explain it but I needed to help her. It was basically the entire reason why I donned a costume in the first place, helping people. I was beginning to think Lisa had spent so long feeling like there was no way out, that she saw traps in the exits. "We're already having lunch here at one on Saturday."

"No, it can't hurt." She looked back out over the Bay. "Alright, I'll be there."

A turn of the salt-water and seaweed scented wind blew my hood back, and I took a second to push my hair out of my face and pull my hood back up. I grinned, both at her agreement and that I no longer had to wear my glasses. "Good."

"You really do look happier," she said. It sounded final.

"Don't give up," I told her.

"I'm not going to." I felt more than a little relief at the return of her wide, fox like smile. "Coil has plans for E88, listen carefully." I leaned in. "Alright, so plans. He's confident about them which means he has a way to neutralize them. They are the designated losers, mopping up what's left."

"And ABB?"

"He's not gunning for Lung herself anymore." She frowned. "And yet he is, kind of. If E88 loses, ABB has to win, but…" She trailed off, brows furrowed. "Win in a way that doesn't make them stronger. Without Lung, pin it on E - no, the Empire would probably win that." She stopped. "Aswang is in PRT custody."

I gave her a sideways look. "Yeah?"

"You warned her, right?" She said tightly.

"Of course I did," I said a bit testily. It was kind of the entire reason I went to her in the first place. Sure, I had reasons to stay now, but I only took the first step for a very good reason. "Talk to me."

"I don't know yet." She chewed on her bottom lip and slurped more of her coffee. "But I have a bad feeling about it." She shifted on her feet and gestured towards the lunchbox. "That's yours by the way. Consider it a thank you."

I raised an eyebrow and tilted the box so that I could see the front. "Alexandria." She'd been my favorite hero as a kid. I lifted it with both hands. It had a bit of weight to it. "Is this a collectible?"

Lisa snorted. "Open it, you dork."

I stuck out my tongue at her and fiddled with the clasps. It popped open. "Money," I breathed. Rows of bills marked for $20 filled the plastic casing to the point where I quickly closed the top again and looked around to make sure no one else saw.

"It's half of my take for the casino job," Lisa said smugly. "Five grand. I figured my life is worth at least that much."

"I can't accept this." The foremost thought was the fact that it was way too much money for me to be holding in an Alexandria lunchbox, from a criminal no less which made the hero on the front ironic.

"Coil has a lot of money. Bank accounts, intermediaries, businesses legitimate and not. I haven't been sitting on my ass with," she rocked her head backwards subtly. "This. I've been picking it apart. If five grand is going to bankrupt me, then I'm doomed."

"Don't talk like that," I said.

"I said if," she protested with a smile. "Take it, really. If not as a thank you, then as an apology for getting you into this mess." She shrugged. "I told the others I was courting you."

I nearly dropped the lunchbox. "What?"

"For the team," she added, but her smile made it clear she did that on purpose. "Non-Asian living on the docks, forced to fall in line, you know the story."

"It's not like that."

"I know that. The others? They'll buy it. And hopefully, we'll be done with this before Coil starts asking the uncomfortable questions. He...knows too much sometimes."

I reluctantly tucked the box underneath my arm. "How much time do we have?"

"Not enough. But he thinks he's got me broken. I'm _not_ ," Lisa snarled. Her cup crinkled in her hand. "And he's going to regret it."

"You mentioned another," I said.

She relaxed slightly. "Yeah, a boy he picked up somewhere." Lisa's eyes flickered to me uncomfortably before she occupied herself with finishing her drink. "Quickest fingers I'd ever seen, he could take your wallet right out from your hand. Didn't really have a name, some parents just suck." Her expression shifted into a sad, nostalgic smile. "I call him Reggie." Her expression darkened. "He's trapped too."

Neither of us felt like talking much after that. I picked my coffee up from the railing and slowly drank it.

It was promising to be a sunny day today, only wisps of clouds clung stubbornly to the horizon of the bay and the sky was already brightening to that light blue. Hopeful weather, I felt, breathing in the sea air with the smell of freshly baked donuts and croissants wafting in from behind us.

She breathed out slowly and gave me a nod. "You should get going. School, right?"

"You don't go?"

"GED," she smirked. "Completely legitimate, of course."

"Right," I said dryly.

She shooed me away and I took off at a light jog, arm clamped around the lunchbox. Heading back home and preparing for school left me with this strange mix of anticipation and dread. If everything went well, today was the day the bullying ended. It wouldn't be through anything the teachers did, or the principal, but just having a group to belong to was going to be...it was sad that I couldn't even imagine it.

Ever since starting high school, I'd been isolated. The worst days had been back in my first year, when I was sure who to turn to and getting burned every time, when I wasn't yet experienced enough to anticipate the variety of things they could come up with. The odd man out, unwilling to take the invitation to join the E88 or the ABB, but too far down the social ladder for any of the ones in between to actually stick up for me.

Back then, it had been terrifying, because I hadn't know what to expect, didn't know where, when or if they would draw the line. It had been too hard to go back to school in January. I'd spent a week in the hospital under psychiatric observation and I knew everyone had heard the story.

Emma, Sophia and Madison. The Terrible Trio.

And maybe if it had just been the shoves, the taunts, juice in my chair and stolen homework, I could have taken it. But then I had made the 'mistake' of accepting a bit of help from the more friendly ABB. From Bao.

Emma _hated_ the ABB. Things escalated. I tried to fight back. She got suspended. Dumpster.

What made it so much worse was that at one time, Emma Barnes had been my best friend. The bus stop had been a bit disappointing. I'd been hoping to see Noriko there again, even if I knew in my head that it was incredibly unlikely and probably for the better I didn't. I'd most likely end up poking at her old wounds again. Noriko was interesting, in that mysterious kind of way. I felt like she had a couple dozen stories to tell and I wouldn't believe even half of them, but I wanted to hear them anyway.

If she'd tell me.

I stared out the window of the bus, watching the people and the cars. The lunchbox was under my bed, the handkerchief tucked away in my closet and Bao's scarf nestled at the bottom of my bookbag. I felt like I was hiding three things too many.

I should have left the scarf at home, I had thought. I knew all too well that if Sophia got a hand on my bag and found it, it was a Bad End, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it. I was sure it was the sappiest thing I'd thought in years, but Bao gave me this scarf, damn it. I wasn't going to be starring in an evening soap anytime soon, but hiding it away felt wrong. He'd be expecting me to have it.

As I got off the bus, a pair of old notebooks in one hand, I just tried to not think about it. If I looked like I was protecting something in my bag, that just made them go after it. I did have something in my bag I wanted to protect, a late art project, but that was beside the point. I didn't really care if everyone knew I was a 'dock rat.'

Everyone but my dad.

Things were peaceful at the start of the school day. I had walked in to see the usual morning tension between the Empire and ABB members milling about in the halls but I felt a momentary surge of confidence when I recognised some of them. I didn't know names, barely knew faces but they were not hostile. I did something I would have never done normally.

I waved at them. It wasn't some kind of confident, happy action, more of an awkward 'hi' that I hoped wouldn't result in them just passing me by and making me look like an idiot. I noticed that some of the other students, both gang-members and normal civilians, looking at me as I waved.

'Please, please, please, just give me a nod or something.' It was a miracle or my own stubbornness that my face was outwardly calm with perhaps a nervous smile. I couldn't take back my action, so all I could do was pray.

"Oh. Hey Taylor!" I wasn't exactly sure which one of the ABB students I recognised I had actually waved at, but one of them, a girl whose name I think was Min-something, smiled and waved back as she spoke to me with an accent that was born and bred Brockton Bay, "How are you?"

I honestly wasn't expecting that kind of response. And I don't think anyone else was either as I kept my smile on, "Um, fine. Great actually."

Min, I decided to just keep referring to her as Min for now, smiled and it was like a dam had broken, "That's great! And hey, you're out of that sling too!" I tried to think of how she could have known before it clicked, Min was another group leader, and I think she was friends with Bao or at least ran in the same circle. She had to have seen me with my broken hand.

She drew closer, wearing a dragon pin but her scarf marked with an image of a multi-armed woman. She had to be under Kali's command then as she spoke to me, "Bao's group, right?"

I gave a very slight nod.

Min's expression turned a bit rueful as her eyes flickered around the onlookers but didn't comment on my less than enthusiastic reaction. "Could you tell him to drop by and pick up his homework?" She pushed on. "It's seriously starting to pile up and my Mom's threatening to use it as kindling and to degrease the oven."

I momentarily considered making a remark that Bao would be more likely to smoke his homework than actually fill it out, but stayed quiet and nodded again, prompting a grin from Min, "Take care Taylor, maybe I'll see you on another date with Bao," she teased.

She left me feeling like my face had been set on fire by Lung as she rejoined her friends and I fled to my locker and classes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw most of the other students already starting to gossip, and I knew Emma would find out in minutes.

It still didn't stop the tiny smile pulling at my lips, nor the momentary fantasy of actually being attractive enough to date Bao. I had computer with Mrs. Knott first anyhow, and I wouldn't have to deal with anyone for a blessed ninety minutes.

Mrs. Knott arrived at the classroom around the same time I did, and unlocked the room to let us file in. As one of the last of fortyish students to arrive, I'd wound up at the back of the crowd. While I waited for enough space to open up at the door, I saw Sophia talking to three of the girls from the class. I swallowed and ducked my head, but I knew I still stuck out like a sore thumb.

Sophia was dark skinned with black hair normally long enough to reach the small of her back, but she currently had it in a ponytail and was still wearing her gym clothes and sneakers looking like she'd just come from track practice. It was hard not to resent the fact that even when sweaty, dusty and a raging bitch, she was still more attractive than me.

She said something, and the girls snickered. Even though I knew that Sophia had a school full of acceptable targets and I wasn't at the top of her list of things to talk about, my heart sank. I didn't think she could have heard already. I hoped not.

I tried to edge up closer to the moving crowd of students, trying to break line of sight. My efforts didn't go unnoticed.

"Hebert."

I jumped.

A few students, I knew their names and faces and 'leader' of the group had spiked hair that was dyed blonde and a dragon tattoo showing from underneath his shirt collar. "Sit with us? You're good at computers, right?"

I stole a glance back at Sophia and instantly wished I hadn't. She was watching me with an intense expression on her face, shifting from me to the other students.

"Sure," I said.

I escaped into the classroom and the door shut behind me like a death knell.

It was strange, that computer class. But...I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. As one of the students on the Advanced Stream of Mrs. Knott's class, I was supposed to be able to help other students with programming and other parts they had difficulty with and if there was one skill I was somewhat proud of it was my skill with computers.

"Okay, so you see this part here? Just put in this line here, get rid of this and…" I smiled as the program began to run and the guy I was helping nodded with a wide smile.

"Hell yeah! Geeze Hebert, do you hack in your free time or something?"

I rolled my eyes while the program continued running, "If I could, I wouldn't be here." It felt like just yesterday I was keeping my head down and hoping that Emma, Madison and Sophia would find new targets.

Now, it almost felt like things were like they were before Emma turned on me, before I got my powers. Almost. Days like that I could never have back, not any more.

"Uh, Taylor?" I blinked out of my musings and turned to one of the others, a girl, who was looking nervously at her screen, "I think I did something wrong here. All my stuff is gone!"

I walked over, "Lemme take a look." And with that my peaceful, somewhat happy morning continued.

Things however, took a turn for the worse after Mrs. Knott's class and I had to face the rest of the school day. As it turns out, the teachers do in fact keep an ear on the student grape-vine, and word that I was being friendly with ABB students had in fact spread like a wild fire.

Mrs. Knott came to me after class, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more to help you Taylor." Her expression was sad, but there was something there as well. Understanding. "I know you probably don't feel the same way, but I won't be treating you differently just because of who you associate with."

I felt like I had to probe a little deeper, "And if I show up one day…"

She nodded, "If you show up one day wearing a scarf with a dragon or a snake or whatever else on it," she suddenly smiled impishly at me, "Well, you'll forgive me if I continue to be impartial in my grades. Just don't turn out like Bao."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Le Cong Bao, the most notorious ABB member in Winslow High...because he didn't do his homework. "Thanks Mrs. Knott, and don't worry. I'd have to actually work at it to be like Bao, and that just defeats the purpose of slacking off."

Mrs. Knott smiled at me, "It's good to hear you laugh Taylor. But please, take care of yourself."

She was my favorite teacher for a reason but as it turned out, Mrs. Knott was the only one who felt that way. If it wasn't in World Studies skipping over my group, it was Ms. Kimber in History being obtuse with answering our questions or Mr. Cambridge in Math being abrupt with explanations.

Every one of them had shifted in their attitudes to me, like I had betrayed them somehow. It rankled; they had swept me under the rug when I practically went swimming in garbage, but now that I was being friendly with other students I was being discriminated because of their accessories.

Maybe some of them deserved it, law abiding citizens were not synonymous with gang members, I know. But if it was some kind of subtle passive aggressive attempt to dissuade me from making friends, they had another thing coming.

"Get the fuck out of my way Heeb." I grabbed the wall to steady myself as a girl with a very distinctive set of stylised lightning-bolt earrings shoved me, hard, on the way to lunch.

And there was the kicker, the E88 students showing their opinion to my new choice in associations. It didn't help that I saw Greg Veder, the only person as low on the ladder as I was, witness what happened. And turn away.

Fuck you, Greg.

The only reason I didn't say that out loud was that I couldn't bring myself to blame him fully. If you weren't in the gangs, you kept your head down. I could see how it looked to him anyway; Taylor Hebert, school pariah, selling out.

I recovered and was about to vanish to where I usually ate lunch, the third-floor girl's toilets, when Min appeared at my side, "Taylor! You okay?"

I waved it off with a smile I didn't feel, "I'm fine. Just going to go eat lunch." Okay, I was grateful for the friendly face, but was she following me? I had seen her nearby on nearly three occasions some student with E88 markings had shoved, tripped and otherwise covertly attacked me and each time an ABB student had helped me out.

I was happy that someone was helping me, but that grim, paranoid part of me whispered nastily that she was just protecting a new member. She didn't really care about Taylor, just the new recruit.

Honestly, it could very well be both as I made to go to my usual hiding spot, the turn was near the lunchroom doors, and said, "I'll see you later Min."

A hand grabbing my wrist made me pause as Min looked at me with a hopeful smile, "Maybe you could sit with us?" She continued before I could reply, "I know it's got to be hard, what with the E88 bothering you and the others being a bunch of assholes."

"It's not that bad," I protested weakly.

Min looked me in the eye, "Right," she drawled. "So what do you say? Sit with us?"

If I refused, I was going to alienate her. If I accepted, there was no way I could deny not being friendly with, affiliated, or even a member of the ABB. Not that I really wanted to, because it was the truth. That truth was just a very inconvenient thing right now.

I should have thought this through.

"Sure. Lead the way."

Min's smile as she lead me to the lunchroom was warm, but it didn't get rid of the icy feeling in my spine that told me this was a bad idea.

The few times I had eaten lunch in Winslow's lunchroom were before things got bad enough that I hid in the toilets and brought packed lunches. But entering now, there was no change since then.

High-school had social layers. Mom and Dad had both told me that eventually a social order would show up, in that kind of feel-good, don't worry you're special kind of way. Attractiveness. Money. And in Winslow's case, gang affiliation. The summer before, I hadn't bothered to worry about it. I had Emma then.

You could tell who belonged to who because there was clear segregation in the lunchroom. E88 members always sat away from the entrance, while ABB sat near the lunch line. And in the middle, the 'civilian' students sat, with some sitting closer to one gang on the other because they were friendly with a member, or were being isolated from one the cliques nearer the center.

A thin line of deliberately empty tables however, formed a distinct demarcation between all three groups. Only the true outcasts sat on those tables, even Greg didn't sit at them.

I expected to be on the sidelines near 'neutral' ground, but Min kept me glued to her side.

"I have my own lunch." I protested weakly as she grabbed two trays. She spared one look at the sandwiches I had brought, and gave me a pitying glance.

"It's pizza." She said, as if that explained everything. I looked at my peanut butter and jelly. Maybe it did explain everything.

I stared at her as we took our places in line and she started piling items onto my tray. "Why are you doing this?" I said under my breath.

"I agree with Bao. You belong with us," she said. She paid for the both of us. "You'll see what I mean, I think."

She lead me right into the thick of the ABB tables, trading greetings before sitting me at what was clearly her group's table, judging by the fact that nearly all of them had Kali's symbol one way or another. Most were Indian but a couple were clearly Middle-Eastern. Min was the only Asian there, "Taylor, the gang," she remarked impishly.

"Kameswari," an older girl introduced herself. Her hair was streaked through with red and she had a gold nose piercing. Her symbol was a patch on her hoodie. "But call me Kam, please."

She was seated next to one of the football linebacker's, I'd recognize him anywhere with his dirty blond hair, hazel eyes and freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. I was not unique.

"Peter." He smirked, "Jersey number 17." He puffed out his chest until Kam elbowed him.

"Behave."

He didn't have a patch, or a scarf or a pin, but what he did wear was a jade colored snake bracelet. He saw me looking, and nodded.

That was kind of insidious, I thought. Covert. Random, innocuous jewelry or designs on a T-shirt could be a declaration of allegiance, but you were never really sure until they chose to make it obvious.

Maybe that was just how Snake's group distinguished themselves. "Are you or Aren't You" kind of trolling.

"In this case the "Dark Side," a Middle-Eastern guy flashed the back of his hand as Peter chuckled. "Does indeed have cookies. They're in the basket, I made them." He nodded at me, "Just call me Hamid, the full name is probably one you won't pronounce right anyway."

"Thanks," I replied, "Sorry if I'm intruding."

"Nah," one of the other guys spoke up, "We're probably intruding on Bao's guys here. I think Shinta wanted you to sit with them, since he talks to Bao a lot." He waved his hand at another table and I glanced over to see the boy in question, and he waved at me. I quickly remembered that he was the guy from before, in Computer class.

I then felt embarrassed that I had forgotten his name as I waved back. Thankfully I hadn't needed to call his name during the class, just help him out and make sure he understood the material. It felt good to help out like that, rather than just hope no-one noticed me surfing the PHO message-boards and doing cape research for my own powers.

"How do you all know Bao so well?" I asked as I bit into my pizza.

"His scarf has a dragon on it for a reason," Min shrugged. "I'll let him explain how the rankings work."

I idly played with a spider in one of the ventilation shafts, making it spin patterns that no-one would see but I could sense, anything to try and dispel the cold feeling on my spine that was steadily getting worse. Every instinct was telling me that this wouldn't last as I smiled at a joke and ate lunch.

It didn't.

"I thought something smelled like garbage over here." Emma's voice cut through the conversation. The bottom dropped out from my stomach. "But no, it's just Taylor Hebert stinking up the place with ABB."

Emma Barnes, former best friend, had the figure of a teenage model and it showed, with a curvy figure and striking red hair and delicate features. She was popular and she actually did a lot of part-time modelling for various stores.

She was also the last person I wanted to see.

"Wow," Madison giggled. "From garbage to criminals, you're really moving up in the world, Taylor!"

"You really going to start with us, Clements?" one of the boys said as I reluctantly stood up and turned around.

Madison winced and backed up. Emma gave her a look, freezing the girl in place. "I don't have a high tolerance for cowards," she said lightly.

That was a catch 22 and I could tell by the reddening look on Madison's face that she knew it too. Stay because Emma intimidated her, or leave because she was scared by ABB and either way, the 'coward' shoe fit. Madison had never come across as 'BFFs' with Emma or Sophia but it wasn't until I looked at her, standing there unsure that I had an idea of why.

Madison was cute, innocent looking with dark hair and dimpled grin that made the teachers believe every word that came out of her mouth. She also kind of reminded me of Yuka with a wide, heart shaped face and dark eyes. I didn't make the connection before, Madison Clements, but at least two ABB members were glaring at her in particular.

Madison stayed put.

"Maybe you should leave." My heart leapt into my throat when I heard Bao's voice. Half of the table had stood up when I wasn't looking, and Bao in his camo jacket and red scarf calmly walked over. The gold dragon on it seemed to snarl as he frowned. He looked me over, lingering on what used to be my broken hand, before facing Emma.

A small group of what was clearly E88 walked up, some of their heads shaved and others with tattoos and pendants, eyes locked on the ABB teens that gathered by me. "We can -"

Sophia blocked him, and I could see the rest of the skinheads tense. "Oh back the fuck up, Eric. Not talking to you."

"Listen you fucking nig-"

Sophia's stance changed in a flash, screaming with barely restrained violence. "Finish that word. I fucking _dare_ you." They stared each other down, but Eric didn't open his mouth again. Sophia snorted. "Thought so." She waved her hand in dismissal. "Run along now."

Emma barely paid attention to the byplay, as if the E88 was beneath her notice. You could never really tell with her, but maybe it was. "You really don't know your new friends. How they kidnap girls to enslave them? You poor, stupid thing. Actually, looking at _you?_ " She swept her eyes over me and I felt my face flush. "You're safe."

Shinta stepped forward from behind Bao with a snarl. The harsh angles on his face, sharp cheekbones and spiked hair made him look like a wild animal staring down a threat. His dragon tat slid over his taut neck muscles. "We _don't._ "

Bao held him back with a hand as Emma laughed, sharp. "Anymore, you mean? Could have fooled me," she hissed lowly. She regained her composure quickly, sweeping her eyes over us before meeting my gaze. "You're _all_ a bunch of rabid dogs that should be put down."

A muscle in Bao's jaw jumped. "You are trying my patience, Barnes."

"You really are a slow learner. You don't know them like I do," Emma said and held out her hand towards me, a bit of a vulnerable expression on her face. "This is for your own good."

I slapped her hand away, angry. At her acting like she hadn't just ripped into me like she'd been doing for months, and angry at myself for almost daring to hope. It was another trick.

"You know what they haven't done, Emma?" My mouth opened on its own accord as I felt something hot and desperate welling up. "Stolen my mother's flute, locked me in a fucking dumpster and _made my life hell for over a year!"_

My shout drew everyone's attention.

Emma smiled, pretty and false. "I didn't have anything to do with -"

"Bullshit." I cut her off. "As far as I'm concerned, you're _worse._ "

Emma's eyes went wide and I saw her lips move, one word, but no sound came out. I had just enough time to feel confident, hopeful that I had gotten through to her before Sophia growled and Emma's clenched fist rocketed into my face.

Again.

My nose crunched and the lunch room erupted in shouting as people came to their feet and some panicked and ran, but I stayed standing as I glared at Emma with hate in my eyes.

High on adrenaline and pain, I swung back.


	9. Antlion

**Antlion**

* * *

My punch found it's mark on Emma's left eye, but as it impacted, I saw her shift back, rolling with the blow, before I focused and smashed my other fist into her cheek. Something popped, either her cheekbone or my knuckles.

Emma turned with it and came screaming back with an uppercut that rocked my head back as stars exploded in my vision before she screamed and tackled me, slamming us both into the table as she slammed her fist into my side, pounding my ribs and shrieking obscenities at me.

She's not supposed to know how to fight, I found myself thinking. It actually seemed a bit unfair.

I stayed quiet; unlike my Dad who's temper exploded, mine was cold and bitter. I grabbed her arm by pure luck and twisted it, hard, and took a painful breath. Press the advantage. My elbow slammed back into her nose. It instantly erupted in a small fountain of blood and Emma snorted reflexively. I grabbed a handful of red hair and with a heave I smashed her face into the table.

That felt way too good.

Her arm swept out and sent the wicker weave basket skittering away and onto the floor.

Hamid howled like someone murdered his dog. "My cookies!"

'I wanted to try one of those,' my brain decided to remind me. My shoulders shook as I just tried to breathe and kept Emma's head pressed against the hard surface as she bucked and struggled. The cafeteria was quiet.

Did I win?

I looked up, skittering across Bao's grim little smile, and was yanked off the table.

Sophia. "You are such a little -"

 _Plop!_

She froze as blue jello slowly slid down the side of her face. We both turned. Kam's face was dead serious for someone still holding the evidence of a spoon catapult. I giggled helplessly.

"Know your place, Sophia."

Fire flared in Sophia's eyes. She locked onto the patch on Kam's hoodie, the multi armed woman and snarled. It seemed like in the space of a blink she vanished from in front of me, and was slamming a fist into Kam's face.

Peter leapt to his feet and the next thing I knew, his lunch tray was flying.

 _"Food fight!"_

There was a flash of red to my right, Eric grabbing onto Bao's scarf. I was fairly sure he regretted it when Min's sneaker swiftly caught him balls.

Several of the E88 students used the opportunity to launch their own attack and everyone that I had been sitting with was now involved along with a few others. I saw Min take a haymaker punch before Emma decided to let me know she was not out of the fight yet, by tackling me clear across the aisle onto another table.

I was only able to slam my fist into a bruise on her neck before she threw me off to land forehead-first against a chair. More stars, followed by grey spots blinking in my vision. I bit my lip until I tasted blood and tried to get my feet under me. Emma's sneaker buried itself in my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.

She was saying something, I didn't hear what, there was a ringing noise in my ears, drowning out just about every sound. Slowly, unsteadily, I rose to my feet. I had to end this, and I had to end it now, before this turned into a full-scale riot as I saw Peter take a sloppy tackle and bring down his fists in an overhead swing on one E88 punk's head.

My eyes momentarily flashed to the ceiling, Emma was right below a ventilation grate. I had to work quickly, before I lost my chance. Ignoring the agony in my head and the feeling of blood trickling down my face, I flailed blindly.

I found the spider I had been playing with earlier in the ventilation shaft above us. I moved into it, a brief nausea filled moment of feeling like I was balancing on eight legs and upside down, before I dropped it on a silken thread onto Emma's back. I directed it to the flesh of her neck as something slimy dripped down the back of my shirt.

I didn't even check what kind of spider it was. Sophia barreled into me like a freight train. I frantically reached out as I fell, I don't know to what, and thought, _'Bite.'_

It's jaws clamped down, my teeth clamped down.

My head collided with the cafeteria flo-

* * *

We sat in a cleared classroom in a rough semicircle, facing the large wooden desk Principal Blackwell sat behind. I held an ice pack to my head and was dressed in one of the school's sport shirts with the Winslow hawk proudly plastered on it; my actual shirt was stuffed in the plastic bag at my feet covered in Jello and chocolate milk.

Madison had to get rid of her blouse too and looked pathetically small talking softly to her father that stood by her, tall and brown haired with a weak jaw.

Most of us had one parent or another with us. Some were talking with their kids, others like my dad, were quiet. Danny Hebert had come in like a volcano, threatening to blow before the vice principal talked to him. He'd taken one look at my side of the room, the scarfs and hoodies, patches and the fight just blew out of him. He crumpled and sat in the back, with his head buried in his hands.

That had hurt more than any of the injuries I had gotten.

Peter was closest to the chalkboard, cradling the broken pieces of his bracelet in his hands. His parents were average middle class and didn't seem to know what to do, as if trying to touch him would make him fall apart. Kam was nearby with a busted lip and alone, giving him concerned glances. Bao sat next to me, also without a guardian.

"You okay?" He leaned over to whisper.

I nodded and felt my gut clench as I tried to avoid looking back at my father. Emma gave me a vicious little smirk from beside her dad, the slightly heavy set Alan Barnes who was dressed in a nice suit and scowling. I looked over the tissue stuck in her right nostril, bandage lumped around her neck with ice with the traces of a massive bruise peeking out, purpling eye swollen shut, and smiled back.

I could owe Amy another lunch. Little Miss Model was going to have to live with that for a few days. I couldn't help feeling I should have hit her harder and broken something.

Bao followed my eyes and grinned. Even with his cheek swelling up and a cut on his eyebrow, his smile lit up his face. "Epic right hook, by the way."

I ducked my head, smothering the giggle with a cough.

The door to the classroom opened to admit Eric and his mother returning. He had an ugly frown on his face, made even uglier by the ripped piercing in his lip and looking like the quintessential bad boy. His mother was a leggy brunette dressed for a warmer spring than what we were having and eyes like chips of green ice.

I couldn't help thinking Eric was grounded for life. So was I, probably.

"We apologize for the delay." She had a faint accent I couldn't place.

Principal Blackwell took the apology uncomfortably, looking around the room with a lost expression on her face. It was quickly buried underneath indignation.

"What were you all thinking?" No one answered her. "A fight in school grounds, the cafeteria is trashed. Do you have any idea -"

Sophia snorted.

Blackwell's face darkened. "Do you have something to say, Ms. Hess?"

The woman I assumed was her mother cut the girl a look that would melt through steel. She was in a suit, like many of the other parents. Sophia hunched a bit in her chair. "No, ma'am."

"We have zero tolerance for violence at Winslow," Blackwell said. "All of you are suspended for the rest of the week and will have an additional week of detentions after school starting Monday."

Zero tolerance for _violence,_ I thought bitterly. So there was a non zero tolerance for bullying then.

"You don't want to know who started it?" Peter's mother said in surprise. She was a frumpy housewife with an auburn bun with a few streaks of premature grey in her hair. She reached out to pat her son on the shoulder.

"Does it matter who started it?" Alan said. "Everyone is being punished. Fair as fair can be."

"Instigators should be punished more than those who retaliate," Min's mother said softly from behind her daughter's chair, an affectionate hand on Min's dark hair. She had on a long deep purple tunic with gold patterns on the square hems and black pants. Her hair was also streaked with grey, solid lines of silver that fell to her chin.

"Zero tolerance," Blackwell reminded.

"Which means discouraging repeat performances," she countered just as mildly.

Alan chuckled but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "This isn't the courtroom, Remya."

"Alan," she acknowledged. "It's a school, which means the investigative work should take only a few minutes. And I still need to decide if Minati is losing her cell phone for the week." The girl winced.

"Emma started it," I said clearly.

"Of course you would try to pin it on me," Emma scoffed thickly, just as I knew she would.

I kept my eyes locked on Principal Blackwell. "She came over to our table and starting insulting me. She threw the first punch."

"Taylor's telling the truth," Min backed me up. It was a weird feeling.

"Thirded," Peter muttered.

The E88 teens didn't say anything.

"Yes, yes, an astounding display of solidarity," Mr. Barnes sneered. "Do we have any impartial witnesses?"

"Peter isn't a liar," his father said sharply, drawing himself up and sucking in his gut. "If he says that girl started it, then she started it."

"All I am saying is that it was a lunch room brawl," Alan soothed with a winning smile. "Tempers are running high, it's a confusing mess, who did what in hindsight isn't guaranteed to be accurate."

Understanding flashed over Peter's father's face. "Ah, I see. It's alright if it's not your kid being called a liar, isn't it?"

Blackwell intervened as Alan's face shifted into something nasty. "We can run an investigation of our own - "

"Emma started it," Madison said. Her father had wrapped her in a one armed hug. My mouth fell open in surprise.

Sophia bristled as Emma deflated.

"Fuck you, Madison."

Madison sighed. "Don't care anymore, Sophia. I really don't."

"I-I see," Blackwell stammered out, sharing a look with Sophia's guardian. "The three of you will be staying behind please. The rest of you have your punishments, I expect to see you all in detention next week."

Remya nodded. "Alan." He didn't respond, jaw clenched. "Minati, we are done here." She looked over Kam, who leaned closer to Peter to whisper and Bao, who nodded. "I will be by the car, you three."

"My phone?" Min asked anxiously as she stood up.

"You can keep it."

She pumped a fist, bandaged knuckles and all into the air and flounced over to me. "See you Monday?"

A grin stole across my face as Bao slung an arm over my shoulder in a little hug. "See you Monday." I looked back at Emma, still smiling. "You lose."

Something in her expression collapsed.

Worth it.

* * *

Not worth it.

The drive home was slow and quiet. I looked stubbornly out the window and Dad kept his eyes on the road, occasionally drifting over to me before he pinched his lips together hard enough to squeeze the blood out of them. I waited for him to start as we filtered through the kitchen door.

"Why?" His voice was weak and tired.

"They're just friends."

"I'm not stupid, Taylor," Dad said blankly, like he couldn't put any energy into it. He wasn't angry, or disappointed, he wasn't anything. It was like he was in shock. The sad thing was, I wanted him to get angry. To yell, shout, scream at me. Anything was better than reminding me of how he looked when Mom died, on the verge of falling apart.

"Did you want me to be alone and bullied for the rest of high school?" I asked sharply.

"No, I - " He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. "I can't do this right now. Go to your room please."

I went.

Dinner was right back to the way it had been, before things started to get better. We didn't say a word to each other and I went back to my room feeling like I was drowning. I paced, read books, tried to work on homework but this terrible feeling of dread was sapping all of my concentration.

Dad didn't understand. He didn't want to.

That night I snuck out in costume, and headed for the Docks.

I wasn't in costume because I was planning on stopping crime, strange as that may sound. Not on the Docks anyway. The last time I had come here suited up, intent on finding the trouble my Dad insisted was there like some kind of bogeyman bedtime story, I walked into a villain vs villain conflict. Ironically, perhaps the best thing that's ever happened to me.

It seemed like forever ago.

Mostly, I just wanted to avoid being recognized, even by myself. Just another teenage cape, out on a stroll. Well, not really, putting on the costume had been a spur of the moment kind of thing but it was comforting. I made this, every strand of silk and every piece of chitin and beetle shell, mine. The saying, 'being comfortable in your own skin' applied.

Down by the water was one of the most soothing spots in the city that I knew of, the top of Captain's Hill came close but it was more of a hike. Not the Boardwalk, at night it just looked dead with all the shops boarded up, the lights off and a stark empty walkway with pieces of trash skittering across it in the wind. It was a place that was supposed to be occupied with people, it didn't seem right otherwise, like the classic horror movie scene of the abandoned street.

I suppose it said something about me that I found the closed piers of the Docks better.

To the very far north of the Bay, on the edge of the crescent sweep of the shoreline was the Boat Graveyard. It was a trash heap, with several hundred thousand ton pieces of 'trash.' When the import/export economy of the city crashed, there wasn't enough ports for all of the ships registered here to be moored and not enough people willing to pay for them to be moved elsewhere. So the extras? They were left out there, forming an artificial reef with a few beached ships driven onto the sand by waves.

You could see them making a dark outline on the horizon from the short stretch of sand that wasn't commandeered by the Boardwalk. Shadows of the cranes and cold smokestacks among the elevated platforms of the piers. I wondered if I could spot Pier 4 from where I was standing, but in the darkness it was impossible, even with the light of a rising full moon starting to illuminate the area.

I briefly wondered if Snake was there, crushing the dreams of another hopeful with a smile on her face.

I reached down and scooped up a smooth pebble from the sand. I flung it at the water. One skip, then a loud kerplunk! I sighed dejectedly and hunted around for another one. Mosquitos were out along with sleepy sand flies and I could feel a few crabs burrowed underneath the tide line.

I grabbed onto the flies, mostly to keep them away from me, and spread them out. I'd been here before, practising. The rusting bench, the garbage can with the ash tray at the top, the Swim At Your Own Discretion sign, I knew these like the back of my hand by now.

I threw another rock. It didn't even skip this time, just hit the water and vanished with a splash.

I was trying not to think, keep my mind clear and refocus. I wanted to settle the butterflies in my stomach and maybe the acid taste at the back of my throat would go with them.

I didn't do anything wrong.

I threw another stone, harder. One, two, three, four, five, and then it vanished underwater.

What did he want me to do? Just keep suffering in silence? Did he think he could just fix everything for me, somehow? Arcadia's waiting list was at least a year long, we couldn't afford the other schools and they were too far away. I picked up another stone and cocked my arm.

And telling him about the bullying helped _so_ much last time.

I threw it. It flopped into the water and sunk. Do Not Pass Go. I glared at the ripples spreading out across the dark surface of the water. Emma started the fight, he was there to hear it. It wasn't like he was bailing me from jail, or finding weapons in my closet or drugs or anything. He was basically punishing me for having friends.

Another stone, blocky and rough. I didn't have high hopes for it. I chucked it half-heartedly and felt both of my eyebrows shoot to my hairline when it bounced once.

It didn't matter if they wore dragons or snakes or goddesses or dogs. They were people, kids like me. And if he couldn't see that…

I stared at the 'rock' in my hand that had crumbled and revealed itself to be a seashell playing pretend. Emma had been trying to rile everyone up. If she had been telling the truth - I tossed the seashell into the water - she probably wasn't. I put it out of my mind, feeling uneasy.

If it was true, I'd deal with it. Somehow.

A breeze kicked up, sweeping down from the north and filled with the smell of rust and brine. I breathed in deep, until I felt like I was about to choke and then let it out. I spread myself across my bugs, slowly, with my eyes closed. They didn't smell things like we did, and I don't mean by not having a nose either.

It was all tastes in the air, but it felt more like I was touching textures with my fingertips. Water droplets filled with salt, tang of oil, gasoline, plants, people, animals, the roughage of dust and other particles, I sorted through it all, moving from one scent to the next. I came across one I wasn't expecting. The flies weren't interested, maybe even repulsed, but I opened my eyes.

Smoke. And where there is smoke…

I followed the faint scent trail north. Towards the ships on the horizon.

The Boat Graveyard was an apt description. The boats themselves were large, lonely shadows in the bay. Some of them rubbed up against each other as the waves rolled in, creating eerie screeching noises that carried. Others had capsized a few years ago with the storms and the beached ones were like whales, doomed. With cracks in their hull, rivets rusting into fragments and far more trouble than they were worth.

There were no streetlights here. All of the warehouses and apartment buildings were long abandoned as the economy took it's toll. The only light I had was the moon which was why the spot of bright orange ahead made my breath catch as I hugged the side of the building.

The orange was the light of Lung's flame.

Kali was there as well, which is why I didn't simply walk up, wearing her two faced mask: grief on one side, murderous rage on the other. The metal stitched into her costume glinted cruelly as she gestured and I crept forward. Another person was with them wearing what kind of looked like they threw a bed sheet over their head. It had cloud patterns on it, and they were also wearing sneakers without socks making me think it actually _was_ a bed sheet.

The hell was going on here?

I inched around the building and breathed quietly in relief when I spotted a fire escape on my side of a building closer to them. The feet of my costume had soft soles, so I squinted at each step all the way up to make sure I didn't step on an exposed nail or something.

The roof was covered in gravel and cigarette butts so I bit my lip and edged along the raised lip of the roof until I could just make out the words. I didn't dare go any further, not with Lung there.

Lung was speaking, "...with Rune and see where the upper limits are then."

I did a double take at the low budget Halloween ghost impression. That was Rune? As in E88 Rune? What the -

My God. _She did it to villains too._

"Are you honestly expecting me to work with a Nazi now," Kali said flatly. She had her arms folded like a sulking child and a manhole cover circling Rune, waiting for the slightest excuse.

Lung was dressed less opulently tonight, but not by much. Pants this time, with a blue silk shirt that had gold button ties running down the center. Still barefoot. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't see a Nazi here. I see a young girl from Beijing."

Rune twitched from underneath her bed cover. "Wait, back the fuck up."

"You don't like the CUI?" Lung asked, her voice dripping with malice as her flame flared.

Rune froze.

"Neither do I!" Lung continued cheerfully. I just about swallowed my tongue. "Tokyo then."

"I -"

"Tokyo is a very nice place. You should be proud," she shushed the girl. "You were saying, Kali?"

Kali stared for a long moment. I could see the moment she decided to stop giving any fucks, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "You're the boss."

"Yes," Lung replied, deadly serious. "I am."

"What happens if it doesn't work that way?" Rune asked cautiously. "If it just, I don't know, fights too much?"

"I expect you to at least try to cooperate with each other," Lung said with a wave of her hand, as if it was a given. "If it doesn't work, I will be disappointed. That is all."

"And then I can leave?" Rune pressed. She shuffled around on her feet, sheet clamped to herself. I couldn't exactly see her expression but I got the feeling she was anxious and scared, playing tough.

"You have my word."

Rune studied Lung, I thought. Her covered head stared in Lung's direction for a good two minutes before a tiny nod. "Pick up a boat then. Pick up a fucking ship when the heaviest you've done is a fucking truck, no fucking pressure."

"That's what I'm here for, runt," Kali grunted.

Rune's left hand snaked out from under the sheet, middle finger extended, to show what she thought of that.

Lung chuckled.

The nearest ship to us was a docked barge. It was an ugly thing, taking up all of the space it was allowed with its flat top, filled with empty, creaking containers. The mauve paint was stripping off of it, revealing the brackish red-brown metal underneath. I crept along the roof after them, one slow step at a time.

Rune leaned over the side of the peer, planting a palm on the side of the boat. "Okay," she murmured. "Okay."

"Lots of parts," Kali said, distracted.

"Focus on the hull," Lung instructed her, walking over to the edge of the dock. "The ship can hold itself together."

"You hope," Rune snarked.

"No big loss if it doesn't," was the easy answer. "On three."

"Straight up!" Kali barked. Rune bounced on her toes like an Olympic sprinter getting ready for the hundred yard dash.

On Lung's count of three, Rune and Kali stilled. The ship began to move.

At first the barge swayed, the containers on it scraping across as it tilted but it soon evened out. There were moaning sounds of shifting metal and the water under the dock sloshed around. The surface rose to meet the pier and then surpassed it. A loud crack sounded.

"What was that?" Lung asked sharply.

"Uhhh," Kali said eloquently. "Something."

"I got it," Rune gritted through her teeth. I could barely hear her. The boat continued to lift until it cleared the water. A large piece of metal fell off the back judging from the loud splash.

"That was part of the engine," Kali said.

"Put it back down." A second later, Lung amended, "Slowly."

Too late.

The ship went back down a lot quicker than it went up. Water splashed over the sides, drenching Lung completely right after she got the last word out. Her clothes went from classy to drowned rat, clinging to her. Her flame sputtered indignantly, then flared white hot. I could see water dripping from her dragon mask.

The very beginning of a snorting giggle escaped my mouth before I smothered it with the palm of my hand.

For a moment, no one said anything. Rune inched away.

"She did it," she and Kali said simultaneously.

"You know what?" Lung said with a small laugh. She pointed down to where she was standing, close to the edge. "I deserved that." She started to walk off, sloshing. Kali followed. "Thank you for your time, Rune."

The girl started and jogged to catch up with Lung. "My parents," she hedged, trying not to sound scared.

"Are off limits," Lung assured her. "I don't involve civilians."

"How'd you figure out where I live?" It was a different kind of fear in her voice this time, dread. "Did you seriously just like, ask a member to get me or some shit like that? I mean, _how the fuck?_ "

"I did actually," Lung said pleasantly. "There was a brown haired woman, top heavy, green eyes with a white costume…"

"That was Diamond," Rune said, with the tone of someone in the midst of horrified realization. Diamond was one of the new capes E88 had gotten in the past few months. A villain cape from Austria and part of something called Gesellschaft. Either Kaiser was getting sloppy with his recruits, or Lung's reputation proceeded her. It could even be both.

"She actually gave me up."

"She was very reasonable."

Rune stopped dead in her tracks. "That's fucked up," she breathed.

"I will be honest," Lung patted Rune on the head as she left her behind like she found a confused puppy and was sad she couldn't take it home with her. "I thought a gentle reminder was best."

"Of what?" Rune didn't sound like she really wanted to know. I found myself morbidly curious and strained my ears to hear the answer.

When Lung spoke, it was still pleasantly with a lilting voice, "Of dragons."

"Knights kill dragons!" Rune shouted after her.

Lung kept walking with a light shrug. "He is free to crawl out of his castle and try. He knows where I am."

They were talking about Kaiser, leading cape of Empire 88. I didn't think Kaiser could take Lung one on one. Purity, perhaps, maybe Hookwolf before she escalated past him but not Kaiser. The ability to make metal spikes appear was kind of lackluster compared to scaled skin that shrugged off energy blasts from Behemoth. Maybe that was just me being biased.

I crept back across the roof in the opposite direction from Rune, who headed back towards the pier. Lung and Kali weren't walking very quickly, so by the time I shimmied back down the fire escape and around the wall of the building, I was able to catch the tail end of their conversation.

"I think it would be better if you stop questioning my lead, or I will start questioning why I am tolerating you, hmm?"

Kali stammered, but seemed to think better of actually protesting. I felt validated, remembering Parian. "S-sorry."

"You can go."

I waited until she did leave, watching her shadow float over on the manhole cover and vanish against the backdrop of the night sky. Lung didn't resume walking and I held my breath.

"You can come out now, Hachi."

Damn it.

At first, I was tempted to just stay where I was and hope she was making a blind guess but I also knew that she had no reason to call me out specifically, not with the dozens of others teens around, unless she was sure. I abandoned my hiding spot with my head hanging.

"What gave me away?"

Lung gestured at her wet clothes. I tried not to pay attention to how much it clung to her or get jealous. I didn't succeed. It helped that she wasn't cold. "You laughed."

I felt the embarrassed, nervous smile on my face because it pulled at some of my injuries. "Sorry about that."

She snorted but didn't seem offended. Her flame was still the brilliant white, brightening up our spot on the street. It also gave off a steady heat and I realized she was drying herself out. "Walk with me."

That was fine with me. I fell into step beside her.

We walked back south, past the warehouses and large metal containers stacked up like children's toys, past the cranes and dead ships until the road began to smooth out with more recent maintenance and the sand of the beach began. Lung's stride was even, unhurried. She had all the time in the world, almost lazy. Mine was awkward in comparison, not that it surprised me. My legs, like my arms, were too long and I was just happy my footsteps didn't sound like an elephant's with my large shoe size.

"What was with the boat?" I asked. That display didn't really seem like it fit into any criminal plan. At least, I didn't think it did. It would be kind of weird if it was, considering bed sheet Rune.

"A test." She wrung out the bottom of her shirt. "To see if the boats could be cheaply moved."

"You're going to clear out the Graveyard?" It was perhaps the most visible sign of the city's decay and the reason for it. No one wanted to spend the time, effort and money to clear it up, not even the Mayor who vetoed Dad's ferry project for years before he gave up. For _Lung_ to do it would be a slap in the face for every politician.

She had my vote.

"I didn't say that," she sighed. "It was a thought."

"Can I ask what brought that thought on?" I questioned lightly.

"I received a petition," she began uncomfortably. She glanced at me, then turned her head to look out over the water. "A personal request if I would consider it. Either the docks or," she nodded her head in the direction we were walking in. "Something like the ferry."

So that's where we were going. For a minute there I was almost afraid she was escorting me home.

"My Dad made plans to restore the ferry," I blurted out. I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was some sort of screwed up apology on my part, putting his life's work out there for the one person I actually believed could carry it out. "To expand it so it's actually worth it, a new route from the tip and swing by the PHQ."

"Another tourist trap?" Lung scoffed.

"No! I mean, it can be, but even if it's just a straight line it's quicker than driving the roads into town for everyone. He has it planned out and it won't cost much, he spent a lot of time on it." I was honest enough to admit I was a little desperate.

The plan had been a yearly thing. Dad would get out his best suit, shine his shoes and pack his folders and papers into his briefcase and ask me to wish him luck. He spent weekends on it, late nights with papers scattered all over the kitchen table, calling contractors for updated quotes every year.

And every year it would get tossed back in his face. He needed this. I needed this.

"I can even show it to you," I ended.

Lung didn't say anything for a bit, just tilting her head to the side like a dog that heard a whistle.

"This is not just about the ferry, is it?"

I didn't even care about the fucking ferry. It could stay docked at the stupid booth with it's lying signs forever, but it was how Dad had dragged himself out of depression. If he was frowning over the budgets, timetables and quotes, if he was spitting mad at the Mayor, if he had to take a walk to cool off it didn't matter because he was there and not how I saw him today, empty.

I'd destroyed everything.

"Of course it's about the ferry," I said thickly and tasted salt on my lips.

She hummed. Her fire expanded then, spreading out in some places wide and thinly stretching in others. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and tried to ignore the feel of droplets sliding down my cheek behind my mask.

"It's a butterfly." I said flatly. As if to demonstrate, the fire butterfly flapped its wings, shedding sparks. "I'm not five."

"You are stopping a mugging," Lung said matter-of-factly. "You only have butterflies. How?"

I stared and then surprised myself by laughing. "I'll bite, how many?"

I could hear the smile in Lung's voice. "Let's say fifteen and a few," the flames compressed into the picture of a bumblebee. "Of these."

 _Now_ we were talking.

I buried my fears and sadness and threw myself into the distraction, grateful for it. It wasn't until Lung had to set some ground rules, "Stop with the eyes! You are supposed to be a hero," that I realized I was having fun. Intellectually, I knew Lung was probably a terrible person. She was a gang leader in Brockton Bay, hanging around her like this was dangerous. I knew in my head that she was a murderer, and more besides. I was not like those nutjobs on PHO and their villain worship. They glorified in the crimes, the murder and violence.

None of those villains had ever showed up to defend a city against an Endbringer.

There was more to Lung than that, I thought.

I _liked_ her.

"Now you're just giving me shitty ones. Ladybugs, really?"

"Give up?"

"Hell no."

I almost wished...I laughed at myself, shaking my head.

Never mind.


	10. Interlude, Emma Barnes

**Interlude, Emma Barnes**

* * *

"It's been a week. You can't-You can't be happy like this."

I'm not, Emma thought dully. The wall had a thin spidering crack running up it, jagged and so thin she almost thought she was imagining it. If she stared at it too long, it started to move until she blinked and her eyes focused once more on reality. It had been hidden under her posters, the ones she stripped from the wall. She didn't want anyone looking at her. She clutched the fabric of her pajamas.

"We won't bother you," her mother whispered. "Warm yourself up some food, treat yourself to a nice bath, maybe, watch some television? Get things a step back to normal?"

Normal. Emma could think of normal, like Taylor, laughing and blabbing over the phone as she put one foot in front of the other like nothing was wrong. The very thought of getting out of bed was exhausting. Reaching tomorrow seemed impossible.

It had been a week.

"Bye, honey."

She laid there on the bed, staring at the wall with the torn corners of posters still stuck to it and that crack in the paint, knees tucked to her chest. Her head was on her right hand, and it had gone numb. She listened to her mother's footsteps head back down the stairs, murmurs of conversation coming up through the floor as they got organized, shuffled people around in car groups, what everyone wanted for lunch. She heard when they were interrupted by the doorbell ringing and all conversation stopped.

Her father answered the door, most things after that were a low buzz she couldn't quite make out as everyone started talking at once. Emma shifted in place and her hand began to prickle as the blood rushed back into it. Once the other voices, her sisters and mother fell quiet, she could hear more, imperfectly.

"...out of media attention. We don't want to provoke a response." The woman's voice was vaguely familiar.

"...what you're worried about?" Her father demanded hotly. "You saw what they did to - " his voice dipped and she knew they were talking about her.

"...sign of anything unusual? She's been through a lot…"

"Nothing. I'm...glad for that, I think. She's just Emma."

"...will again...why I wanted to talk to you, if you would help identify…"

"...Emma saw more of, but I can't ask her to…"

She closed her eyes and stopped listening.

Soon, they came up the stairs next and reopened her door. She didn't look.

Unfamiliar footsteps rounded her bed. She caught sight of a knee covered in camo patterns and her heart jumped.

"Miss Militia," Emma muttered.

The woman sat by her, causing the bed to sink. "Emma." She didn't apologize for something that wasn't her fault, or ask her stupid questions like if she was feeling okay, didn't tiptoe around her and for that one fierce second, she loved the hero more than her own parents. "There is a favor I would like to ask of you."

"What?"

"We would like to identify the bodies of ABB members."

She flinched but then opened her eyes and tilted her head to look at the woman. Concerned brown eyes met hers. "They're dead?"

The heroine didn't insult her intelligence. "We suspect." She was quiet for two, three heartbeats. "I am sorry I couldn't get there sooner." And there it was.

"Said that before," she muttered.

Miss Militia adopted a bit of a rueful expression from what she could see of her brows and eyes. "Heard me? You were a bit unresponsive then..."

Very diplomatic of her.

"Emma, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to," her father said quickly from somewhere behind her.

"I'll go," Emma said, because she knew if she didn't commit now, she wouldn't be able to get out of bed today.

She was given time to get ready, take a shower and put clothes on. She didn't touch the bag of expensive soaps and shampoos, instead using her father's regular shampoo. She also didn't look in the mirror to see the thin smiling line scabbing over on her throat. She turned the water up hot enough to turn her skin red and scrubbed until she hissed with pain.

Once she was dressed, hair still damp, she ventured out into the foyer where Miss Militia was waiting patiently.

"We actually had plans for the day," her mother simpered.

"They're still on," her father rushed to assure her. "But this is important and shouldn't take long. We'll be late, but that's better than not going at all." He sighed. "Go without me, I'll catch up."

Her mother sprung into action, bustling around. Keys for the door, then a key chain to put them on, money for lunch and extra, then the purse to store it in, the smothering hug she backed out of, trembling.

"Everything will be alright," her mother said. She didn't respond.

Outside sat a plain, unassuming white van with no markings and a standard license plate. The woman in the driver's seat was in plain clothes but still had a gun holstered and PRT name tag attached to the pocket on her shirt. She smiled at Emma, slightly, before turning away. She too, didn't ask questions.

Her father took the passenger side front seat. Emma settled in next to Miss Militia in the back seat and gripped her knees with her hands.

The PRT headquarters were downtown, looking just like any other building on the street if it weren't for the royal blue shield logo dominating the lower front window pane. The lobby was clean and brightly lit.

There were dead people here, Emma thought.

She wasn't sure how to feel when that turned out not the be the case. Perhaps a little disappointed, a morbid eagerness she didn't know she had fading.

The room was large and dominated by a rectangle gun metal gray table that was evenly covered with glossy pictures that reflected the light, bleaching the centers and the faces. A heavy set woman with brown hair in a bland, short hairstyle stood stiffly on one side as they entered. Emma knew her from the press releases and articles as Director Emily Piggot.

"...come down with the _full_ force of the PRT and Protectorate," she was saying. Her voice was clipped and hard. Her watery blue eyes narrowed underneath her eyebrows.

On the other side, peering over the pictures with a disdainful curl to her lip was an Asian woman in jeans and long shirt wearing a charm bracelet. It was a silly thing to focus on, that bracelet with a dragon charm. She'd been considering getting Taylor one for her birthday.

She froze in the doorway when the woman looked over, disinterested and dismissed her with the same motion.

"She survived, yes?"

That word resonated with her, no matter how callously stated.

Survived. It fit perfectly, didn't it? After everything was said and done, she was here standing on her own two feet. That was all she was doing. Breathing. Trying not to think. She should be angry, she felt. Annoyed, irritated, offended but instead she was just numb. Empty.

The woman's hair was very long, not like hers which was crudely chopped off with a pair of scissors and the bathroom mirror. Older than the Asian girl with the eye shadow, not the same, but not safe. The woman at the table was coiled like a rattlesnake in the sun. Not flashy or blatant, like the girl. She couldn't shake the feeling that the woman could read her mind and knew just how deep the fear ran.

The director's face purpled slightly. "I can assure you, if she hadn't we would be having a very different conversation, with Lung herself. At muzzle velocity."

The woman looked amused at the threat. She pronounced her words carefully, bleaching her accent. "Like the ones your officers use?"

"No," Miss Militia said from over her head, stepping up behind her. "Like the one I would use. All it takes is one shot," there was a blur of movement from the hero's hand. "With the right gun."

"You would be allowed?" She asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

She must have seen something in Miss Militia, because her smile soon faded.

Piggot interjected, "Lung is useful." She made a sharp, cutting motion with the blade of her hand. "Not that useful."

The woman's lips thinned. "Understood."

Piggot eyed her suspiciously, managing to turn to Emma without taking her eyes off the asian woman completely. "Miss Barnes." And then to Miss Militia, "I take it her father is waiting outside?"

"Yes, ma'am."

That got a short nod. "Then let's get this over with. Miss Barnes, if you would identify your attackers from this line up?"

She stepped up to the table. The shadow she cast revealed the faces and her tongue felt thick and uncooperative in her mouth. She settled for pointing, top right, center left and right underneath. The fourth was missing. Her stomach dipped.

The director seemed to preempt her questioning look. "Minus the one we can attribute to Shadow Stalker at the scene," she said with no small amount of distaste. "Then we have them all accounted for." Quieter, under her breath the woman grunted, "What is Lung playing at?"

They were all dead then. Her shoulders sagged. "Good. The others?"

"There has been a rash of murders lately," Piggot said briskly. "Most unexplained."

"Easily seen. No point and makes people angry. Lung can tolerate many things," the woman with the bracelet said. "Stupidity is not one of them."

Piggot jumped on that statement. "Is she taking responsibility for all these deaths then?" The woman shrugged, as if to say 'sure, why not.' "Trouble in paradise?" Emily Piggot continued snidely. "Unable to control her own people?"

Bracelet woman smiled thinly. "The gangs were here before Lung was. They were uncontrolled then, you are complaining she isn't doing your job for you?"

The purple in the director's face darkened. "Fifth and sixth degree burns, this one," she jabbed a meaty finger at a photograph. "Through his spine? This one was drowned," the woman smiled as if she thought of something funny and Piggot growled. "I don't find sadism amusing."

"Are you volunteering to take the trash off Lung's hands?"

"Do the words 'due process' mean anything to you?"

The woman with the dragon bracelet clicked her tongue once, and glanced to the side. "Do they?"

With a start, Emma realized the woman was asking her. "No," she whispered.

No. When the knife was cutting your skin as you laid helpless on the ground, it meant nothing at all.

Miss Militia stepped in then, quietly tugging on her sleeve as Emily Piggot sighed, a glimmer of pity in her eyes. For a moment, the director looked like she wanted to say something, but appeared to change her mind. Emma felt a rare flare of energy then, of anger. _Pity._ So she let herself be led out the door. Her father came over quickly. He aborted a hug, refraining from touching her.

"Done then?"

"Yes, thank you both for your time." Militia's hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. "Hang in there."

She was already doing that, a survivor and she had no intention of stopping, of breaking. She did not want to be someone that was pitied. She clung to that thought as she nodded and pulled away, back into the van. Her father sat with her in the back seat for the return trip. Several times he tried to start a conversation, but they died only a few words in. She stared out the window.

They were all dead. That was good.

Her father left her at home, standing on the front step with the keys in the lock and her hand on the doorknob. She didn't move to open it as she heard his car speed away. Instead she locked the door again, shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking. Survivor, she survived. She couldn't hide away again.

That didn't stop her jaw hurting from grinding teeth by the time she reached the end of the street. The ache from the mottled bruise on the inside of her thighs came back with a vengeance as her breath hitched and she ducked her head. Too close.

They were all dead.

The stares were the worst of all. As much as she tried to tell herself that she wasn't in the middle of a giant spotlight, that people didn't care, didn't know, she couldn't shake the idea that they were watching her. It had to be in the way she walked, she thought and lengthened her step. Or it was in how she held herself, crumpled inwards as if to ward off the world. She tried to fix it. It didn't last.

Were they seeing her as a _victim_ , someone so full of fear and anxiety that her every movement screamed 'easy target'?

That terrified her more than anything. That she could be singled out, that she was inviting it every time she failed to look someone in the eye or glanced over her shoulder, that she was simply asking for it to happen again and this time no one would save her.

She found herself back at the mouth of the narrow one-way road. The dumpster had been moved, the van was nowhere in sight. The chalk outline marked the exact location even now. Her mind jumped ahead without permission, mentally filling in the people, the car, her father bleeding on the road until she shut her eyes and simply breathed.

The world was an ugly place, filled with ugly scenes, and unlike before, it was more than academic. It was visceral, thinking about it punched in her chest with the realization that similar things were happening everywhere. She could have been in the news, raped and mutilated, before the channel was switched and the watcher got up to make a sandwich. Statistic. Another survivor.

It had been one of those defining moments, she knew, the scene that made you or broke you, but what was getting her right here, right now, was that she didn't know which it was. In a moment of desperation, she had fought.

And what did she have to show for it? Survived, like hundreds of others in a faceless crowd.

What was she doing here?

"Takes guts."

She jumped and hated herself for it. The girl was dark-skinned, slender, with long, straight hair. Like the woman with the bracelet, owning the space she stood in. Her stare was hard, penetrating.

"Guts?" Emma couldn't imagine a word less appropriate.

"Coming back. The only reason you'd do it is because you were looking for revenge, or you were looking for me. Or both, depending on how cracked you are."

"They're dead," she heard herself say. The realization came after. This was the girl with the black cloak, announcing herself. "I'm not here for you."

The girl raised an eyebrow in disbelief but Emma didn't care. She was here, maybe for an answer. Why? Why did it happen, why to her?

She walked over to the chalk outline and stared down at it. The girl followed.

"So why are you here?"

"Why'd you wait?" Emma asked instead.

"Because I wanted to see who you were."

It wasn't born from conscious thought. Her body moved on its own, taking that step forward as she belted the girl across the face. Her knuckles screamed.

The girl laughed, loud, fingers gingerly touching her lip. "Exactly!"

Emma had her answer.

* * *

She watched Taylor approach the gate, tan, still wearing that shirt from camp in the bright primary blue with the logo, shorts and sandals. Broomstick arms and legs, gawky, with a wide, naive smile. Her glasses made her eyes look too wide and long dark curls were tied behind her head in a loose set of twin braids, one bearing a series of colorful 'friendship bracelet' style ties at the end. Only her height gave her away, that she was thirteen and not nine.

"Who the fuck is that?" Sophia murmured.

Emma didn't reply, stepping forward. Taylor walked up the path to the stairs where she and Sophia stood.

"Emma!"

"Who the fuck are you?" Sophia asked.

Taylor's smile faltered, she cringed away and a brief look of confusion flickered over her face. Emma could see it, the sudden uncertainty, nervousness, the hint of a little fear. It reminded her of herself, three weeks ago, knowing that she was just asking for it.

She hated herself then.

"We're friends," Taylor said. "Emma and I have been friends for a long time."

Sophia smirked. "Really."

It was something like that one song, released shortly after Scion arrived, laying out a binary world, a world that made sense. Sophia had found it funny, to have the world view neatly wrapped up in an oldies tune. She found it comforting, it wasn't a new concept. Use or get used. Abuse or get abused. It would never happen to her ever again.

Emma smiled too then, pretty and false. It would be like ripping off a bandaid, getting rid of one last reminder. Perhaps she should have known then, that it wouldn't be that easy.

* * *

 _"_ _Expulsion?"_ Emma shrieked. Her fingernails dug into the bottom of the plastic chair as she fought the urge to get up and do something, anything. Her father's hand was heavy on her shoulder and tight.

"I said I am considering it," Blackwell said tightly. "Need I remind you that you were suspended earlier this year?" And then as an aside, as if Emma didn't matter at all, "You are free to go Madison, Mr. Clements. Tell me if there is any trouble."

Her teeth were grinding.

She didn't bother with the useless denials, that Blackwell couldn't do this to her because it was obvious that she very well could and that she wanted to.

Soon after the door closed behind them, the principal bit out, "Couldn't wait until the end of the school year, could you?"

"I didn't -" Sophia started and Emma felt a pang of betrayal.

"Miss Hess, I assure you, I was not born yesterday. Are you trying to tell me that when I look at the videos, I will find you completely blameless?" Her voice dipped, condescending. "Did someone hit you first?"

Jello didn't count. They both knew that. Sophia looked down at the ugly, plaid gray carpet mulishly.

"The both of you have been a thorn in my side since you started your little crusade against possible gang members -"

Emma snorted around the tissue still stuck in her nose. Taylor's elbow was just as bony as ever. At least the genetic charity case actually made it work for her this time. "Possible, my ass."

Blackwell glared at her. "Believe what you will, but it so happens that I like this school. I want it to stay intact. And if that means getting rid of you two so that I don't have gang wars in my cafeteria, that is exactly what I will do."

"Going a bit far saying that my daughter will be the cause of that," her father spoke up, finally. "We both know there are a lot of E88 and ABB in this school, they'll tear into each other anyway."

"They behave themselves," Blackwell said blandly. "Mostly. Which is more than I could say for your daughter, Mr. Barnes. I thought the warning you received the first time would be sufficient, but then that dumpster incident -"

The lie spilled easily from her lips. "I had nothing to do with that!"

"So you've said," the woman drawled. "I am also not blind. The dumpster could only be locked from the outside, and she has accused you of bullying her extensively before."

"Circumstantial evidence," her father sneered.

"This is not a courtroom, Mr. Barnes. This is my school."

"We could take it to a courtroom," he blustered. Emma resisted the urge to close her eyes in embarrassment. Blackwell wasn't Mr. Hebert, Dad.

"By all means," Ms. Caldera spoke up for the first time beside Sophia's chair. The PRT handler buffed her nails on the collar of her suit jacket. "Just know that I will not be assisting you this time. Sophia is done."

"Done?" The girl yelped as her father backed down with a scowl. "What the fuck -"

"I will be submitting a transfer application to Arcadia for you as soon as possible. It seems Winslow is not a good fit for you, no offense, Mrs. Blackwell."

Sophia sagged with relief.

"None taken," the principal said. "I agree wholeheartedly."

"It will be great," the handler continued with faux cheerfulness and white teeth that stood out starkly against her mocha skin tone. "More monitoring, less gang presence and you'll get to be with all your new friends."

Something about the way she said that, new friends, made Emma's stomach shrivel.

"As I said," Blackwell steepled her hands on the desk in front of her and stared in a way that made Emma feel small. She refused to cower, raising her head defiantly. "Expelling you is on the table. I won't play that card yet, but as of this moment, I don't want you touching Taylor Hebert. You don't speak to her, you don't sit by her, don't even sneeze in her direction, or you are out. Am I clear?"

Emma seethed, hissing through her clenched teeth and feeling one wiggle under the pressure. "Crystal, ma'am."

"That goes for Madison Clements and keep whatever issues you have with ABB under wraps. I will be informing the teachers to keep an eye on you. I expect you in detention Monday. That is all."

Outside on the crumbling part of the curb that separated the parking lot from the sidewalk, painted in a pale, chipping yellow, Ms. Caldera ripped Emma's support right out from under her.

"I decided it would be better, for both of you I think, if Sophia didn't associate with you anymore."

Emma's mouth opened, and then closed without a sound.

 _No….no...nononononono…._

Caldera gave her father an apologetic glance, but her voice was even and practical. "Her behavior hasn't been making the kind of progress we hoped for and now I think I know why."

"Emma isn't- ," her father started but then he stopped, and sighed heavily. She wanted to scream at him, a hot desperation welling up. _Make it better, Daddy!_ He didn't say anything else.

"I will let you two say your goodbyes," Caldera fished out a pair of sunglasses and placed them on her forehead as she walked towards her dark blue sedan.

Her father similarly abandoned them, kissing her carefully on the forehead. "I'll be in the car."

In the quiet minute after, the two girls just stared at each other. Sophia recovered first, naturally, shrugging her shoulders and casually kicking a piece of broken concrete, sending it skittering across the pavement. "It'll be fine."

No, it won't, she didn't say. "I just have to make nice this year. Besides they really can't, what, put you on house arrest without any charges?"

"They've got a lot of shit on me. Can't stop me," Sophia said grimly. "Bit different than them not knowing." She looked away, back towards the blue car. "This is so fucked up. They don't want trouble with wannabe punks, seriously? Since when did anyone care about them?"

Emma had no words to say, because every variation was sounding more and more like, please don't leave me and I need you kind of pathetic drivel she didn't use anymore and less like who she was supposed to be. She'd get her equilibrium back, she was sure of it. _Fake it till you make it._

"Whatever. The rest of the year is probably going to suck, but…"

Sophia cracked a grin. "You'll live."

"A few months." It already felt like forever. "Once 'progress,' " she did the air quotes, "is made, it'll be back to normal."

"Maybe." Sophia shrugged again, unconcerned. Emma felt like a piece of her had just died. "See you around." And she walked away.

Emma climbed into her father's car numb all over.

There was the feeling she got as she lounged on the couch, trying not to think too hard. The jittery, restless energy that kept her eyes roving around the room and her fingers tapping some nameless tune on the cushioned armrest. She should be in school right now, _but she's not, suspended, remember?_ The nervous energy was building as she tried to keep herself from dwelling on things, _didn't work._ She had even picked up her phone, navigating the contact list by pure muscle memory, not even having to look, only to get the dial tone of an unavailable number, _no Sophia either._

She wanted to do something, anything but at the same time, it was just like it had been over a year ago. She looked around and everything seemed dull, nothing she wanted to do, nobody she wanted to talk to.

Almost nobody.

She got up and put on her shoes and a light jacket before she could think it through. "Going for a walk!" she yelled out before slamming the front door behind her.

The city was empty, it felt. Too late for the morning rush of people getting breakfast or going to work, too early for the lunch time influx of business men and woman on the sidewalks, following their noses. The stretch after stretch of nothing worth anything and no one important almost made the city feel comfortable, cozy.

The right side of her face still ached, she had an honest-to-God shiner dominating her left eye, her nose looked terrible and she already had a dentist's appointment next week for loose teeth.

She'd been asking Taylor to fight back, to not be so goddamn _worthless_ months ago and what does she do? _Nothing._ Not until she was backed up by her new 'friends' like a flock of squawking pigeons facing down a cat. Almost commendable, in that sad, pitying kind of way, if it wasn't that Taylor obviously had no fucking clue what the hell she was getting into.

Emma caught the bus on Sycamore and sat in the back, behind some deadbeat sketching in a notebook and a young mother with a sleeping toddler. The ride was a nauseating mix of nostalgia and dread. She had to grab onto the light pole at the stop when she got off, swallowing down bile.

A hand touched her gently. "Are you alright?"

She restrained from lashing out, inordinately proud that her first reflex was to _fight_. "I'm fine." She brushed them off, whoever they were and kept going.

Taylor's house was just like the others on its side of the street, old. It was a struggling middle class poster child, a house some forty years old and showing its age in the fading paint and dents in the sidings. The other side was newer, more expensive and faced the decaying remains of the old neighborhood with disapproving large windows. The elderly houses had the last laugh, 'For Sale' signs were propped up in the carefully mowed lawns and two car garages leaving only a few actually lived in.

The abandoned, condemned home behind Taylor's loomed like a shadow.

It took far too long to work up the courage to ring the doorbell. She snatched her hand back as soon as the sound rang out and stuffed it into a pocket. Her teeth began to chatter and it wasn't even cold out.

Fake it till you make it.

She forced them to stop by sheer force of will. She could hear voices approach the door, muffled.

"...I got it! He -" Mr. Hebert's face froze. "Emma."

She didn't even try to pretend everything was alright. "I need to talk to Taylor."

Why? She wasn't sure, just that it was necessary like Emma had finally thought up the rebuttal to an argument that had stumped her, and she couldn't move on until she got it out.

 _Because she couldn't fucking lose,_ she latched on to that thought. _Not to them._

His face reddened. "What makes you think I'd let you even _near_ -"

"Ask Taylor. She is there right?" the familiar derisive tone crept into her voice. "And not, you know, out tagging buildings with dragon symbols or anything like that?"

Danny's hand tightened on the door frame until his knuckles turned white. "No," he said stiffly. He was kind of like a porcupine that way, his temper all quills but vulnerable underneath. Make them uncomfortable and they instinctively curl up and hope the problem goes away.

"Great. Good for her." She almost meant it. "Now can I talk to her, _please._ "

It was the please that did it and, she suspected, he was probably still trying to reconcile them not being friends.

Danny disappeared back inside and the muffled voices returned. She waited impatiently, rocking back and forth on her heels, attempting to bleed off what almost felt like cabin fever, except it was hot and desperate. Her palms felt clammy.

Taylor came to the door, taller than ever with her shoulders squared. She came outside, brushing past Emma and her face set in a blank expression. She stopped at the end of the walkway and tilted her head in a beckoning gesture.

Emma smiled weakly and fell into step.

"Talk," Taylor ordered.

She spilled the beans. That's what it felt like, literally, half baked words tumbling out of her mouth in a rushed stream and she couldn't take any of them back. It was what she wanted Taylor to know, what her stupid one-time friend _needed_ to know because if she didn't hear it first hand she was just going to dismiss it, she was stubborn like that because god damn it!

She's seeing the beginning of another ugly scene in the world, and Emma's taking her rescue and paying it forward. She's not like that woman looking over the pictures, uncaring. It isn't until she stops, gasping for breath and trembling that she sees the existential fear for what it was. She's better than this. She got over it.

She wasn't. She didn't.

The realization makes her cold.

For a short period, Taylor's face is absolutely stricken but it gradually smooths out until it's just her nose that's wrinkling, like she smelled something disgusting.

 _This is where you realize how close to a bad end you came to,_ Emma pleaded inside her head. This was when the hand squeezing her heart could fall away and things could go back to the way they used to be. Good deed done.

"I'll ask," Taylor said.

 _What._

"No," she laughed a bit hysterically. "No, this is not something you ask someone abo- what the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously?"

"You tortured me for over a year," Taylor said flatly. "You are the reason I went to them in the first place and you say **I** have something wrong with me?"

Emma scoffed, feeling her stomach quiver. "Please. What you went through was nothing -"

"Let's lock you in a dumpster for three hours, Emma," Taylor said sweetly. "And we'll see how you like it. Even better, how about I take every secret you ever told me, _including this one_ and rub it in your face for a year beforehand. I could tell the whole school."

The blood drained from her face. "You wouldn't."

Taylor held the stare for over a minute, but eventually her face softened. "No. I'm not you. I'm sorry about what you went through, but everything after? _It was pathetic._ " Tayor could have struck her then, she wouldn't have even felt it. Taylor turned on her heel and started walking back. "We're done. Go home, Emma."

This wasn't...no. "Don't you walk away from me!" Her breath came quick, and light. She was the reason, and Taylor wouldn't…

In her moments of desperation, Emma had always fought, as if _fighting_ itself defined her, set her apart.

There was nothing to fight here.

"I told you before," Taylor called back over her shoulder. "You lo-

-st."

Taylor stumbled and Emma blinked in confusion. A foreign feeling sprung up, hotly.

Emma ran.


	11. Tarantula

**Tarantula**

* * *

That bright and early Saturday morning was a bit marred by spontaneous, temperamental spring showers falling from wispy gray clouds overhead. A small puddle had formed at the end of the driveway in the cracked, missing chunk of pavement and when the sun hit the grass just right, the entire lawn looked like a rainbow on a green backdrop. The rain had actually stopped falling before I had slipped on my sneakers, but the minute I had gone out to get the newspaper, I got dumped on.

Naturally.

I was really hoping that wasn't going to set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Dad thanked me quietly for the newspaper, instantly flipping to the business and economics pages. Things hadn't really gotten any better on that front but it hadn't gotten worse. I was grounded until my detention sentence was served, but it was more of an early curfew without TV. I'd live. The biggest change is that after yesterday, I think he was starting to listen.

Emma came over yesterday. To do...something, not entirely sure what. Apologize? It had ended on a weird note, but at least now I think I know what's up with her. I don't understand at all but I can say that I would spit on her if she was on fire.

It'd take me a while, but I'd do it.

The confrontation at the door had shocked something in my father; it was less my fault and now more his. So instead of him being disappointed and angry at me, he was blaming himself for not noticing and making me feel guilty because he was tearing himself up over what I hadn't told him.

Like I said, not any better.

The real problem was Emma wasn't lying. I was going to have to confront that and maybe I was a bit of a coward, but not to Lung. I wasn't afraid of her hurting me; I was afraid she wouldn't care. Yuka would be safer, or Bao, Noriko perhaps, depends on who I saw first.

Just thinking that as I headed to my room to put on my hoodie made me feel better about the whole thing. Obviously some would do, did do terrible things like what had happened to Emma. But Min wouldn't, Shinta had been pissed at the implication and I couldn't even imagine it of Bao. It really had nothing to do with anyone I knew at all.

I fished Bao's scarf, mine now I suppose, from the bottom of my backpack and wrapped it around my neck. I hid the gold dragon in the hood, leaving just the end with the Chinese characters hanging down.

When I came back down, I knew I barely passed inspection when Dad smiled weakly. He probably suspected what was on the other end of the scarf.

"Panacea?"

"I owe her lunch for healing me," I explained. I had money saved up from odd jobs over the summer, and I do mean odd like ferrying drinks back and forth among the work crews that built the community centers in the neighborhood. Most were dock workers down on their luck, not actually ABB which was the only reason Dad allowed it. "Hang out a little."

He stopped me, pulling out his wallet and handing me a twenty. I took it gingerly. "Treat yourself a bit," he said and tried to smile again. "Have fun."

"You don't need…?" Next month was collection month.

Dad's face hardened and he looked away. "No, it'll be alright." He cleared his throat. "Get going or you'll be late."

I was early, but I took the excuse. "See you later, Dad."

"Bye, kiddo."

Weekends at the Boardwalk were really unlike the weekdays. The throng of tourists was thick with rubberneckers and their cameras, families with small children buying toys, couples feeding seagulls and a bunch of us locals enjoying the atmosphere. The wooden platform was packed to the railing with the lines of moving people and I realized I probably should have anticipated the lunch time rush hour.

I grabbed a few mosquitos and directed them up above in order to use their eyes. While it wasn't a terrible idea, it didn't work as well as I'd hoped. Mosquitos do have rudimentary vision, but when it came to picking out one girl in a crowd, it was lacking. The devil was in the details.

I headed for someone I thought might be her and hoped for the best. She was standing by two blonds, a handsome sandy blond guy in a T-shirt and designer jeans and a bright blonde girl in a blue sundress. It wasn't until blonde number 2 turned so I could see her face that I realized who she was.

"Victoria Dallon?" I squeaked. Glory Girl. A really popular member of the now defunct New Wave team known as Alexandria Junior because of her power set, super strength, invulnerability, flight.

Way better than bug control.

She turned fully and her eyes narrowed. A sharp spike of fear rippled through me as she marched over, grabbed the front of my hoodie and hauled me off my feet.

"You hurt her, and you _will_ regret it," she promised darkly.

I couldn't even open my mouth to speak, just nodded very quickly.

"Victoria!" Amy said sharply. I was set down but couldn't feel any relief. We had a small crowd of observers, making me feel like I was in the center of a giant spotlight in front of a judge and about to be found guilty.

Victoria looked me over and sniffed dismissively. The fear faded. "Just making sure…"

"I love you and all," Amy said gently. "But I can take care of myself."

"Amy -"

"No buts," the healer cut her off. "I'll prove it if I have to."

The boy stepped forward with a winning smile, holding out his hand for me to shake. "I apologize for her, she's protective. Dean. No harm done?"

Dean was very good looking, which just made me feel self conscious in my jeans, hoodie and bruised face. I shook his hand firmly to make up for any staring on my part, there was nothing I could do about feeling ugly. "Taylor."

"This is a 'thank you' lunch," Amy told her sister.

"Right," I jumped in, eager to get back on Glory Girl's good side. I had no idea how I'd gotten on her bad one. I double checked my scarf, no problems there. "For healing me," I realized I didn't look healed. "Before."

Amy gave me an amused, exasperated look with raised eyebrows. She raised a hand and pointed on her face where I knew an angry bruise decorated mine.

"School," I sighed.

This time, Victoria's eyebrows jumped. "The hell do you go to?"

"Winslow."

All three of them nodded, as if that made perfect sense and explained everything. Winslow High was notorious it seemed, perhaps even the bogeyman of high schools. Don't behave, you might get sent to Winslow. I hear they have gang members wandering the halls during free period.

"Is it really bad?" Amy asked hesitantly.

I shrugged. "It's getting better."

That mollified her somewhat. "Can we have lunch now, Vicky or are you tagging along?"

Victoria looked like she wanted to do just that in order to keep a hostile eye on me, but when she met her sister's stare the golden girl deflated. "You used to love having me around," she pouted childishly, bottom lip sticking out and quivering. Dean flicked that lip and she scowled at him.

"I still do," Amy rushed to assure her. "But…"

"But you got a shit ton of new friends now, I get it." She gave me the stink eye as if I was personally to blame. "We'll be at the movies, just call me if you need anything. Anything, okay?"

"Like always," Amy smiled back. Then she hooked her arm into mine and started dragging me away. "Vicky means well," she said lowly. "Alright if I chose the place?"

The proverbial piggy bank winced.

"Sure."

Amy chose a decent cafe that was on the shoreline. The wooden platform swelled to a roundabout with a small lily garden in the middle and benches around the outside. It was built on a concrete lip hanging over the water on the far side and a chalkboard stuck onto the wall by the door boasted the lunch specials. It wasn't as popular as Fugly Bob's further down, mostly because it wasn't as cheap, but it wasn't bad.

"Done," she said as I held the door open for her and she pulled away. "Your face will feel a bit weird, I had to clear out your bruises, but good as new."

I smiled experimentally. "Thank you. I mean that, you're awesome."

Amy preened.

The Union cafe was one of the oldest structures on the Boardwalk and it showcased it with pictures of dockworkers and boats like it was a history exhibit dating back to after the second World War. The tables were polished dark wood with sand and seashells in the center under glass and the chairs were metal clams with pearl colored cushions. The small menus were prefaced with an old school advertisement for the ferry which made me smile a bit.

With any luck, that'd be up and running again.

Amy ordered a cod meal for herself and after a bit of mental math, I got the same.

"How's your mother doing?" I asked hesitantly. I regretted it when Amy's face went carefully blank as she unfolded a napkin.

"No change."

"Sorry to hear that." I was also sorry for asking.

Amy seemed to know what I was thinking, smiling. "Everyone asks eventually, it's okay, really. We're getting through it."

"Your sister seems...nice," I scrambled for something else to say.

Amy scoffed. "She's vain, self centered and a big cry baby." Her face softened. "She's also extremely protective of me, loves helping people out and too optimistic for her own good." She leaned over the table on her arms. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Only child," I told her. I honestly can't remember ever wishing I had a brother or a sister. Mom and Dad had been enough for me. Then, you know, who I thought was my best friend. It was beyond strange to think about now, with the large heaping of pity and abstract interest.

"Aggravating a lot of the time," she rolled her eyes. "But I wouldn't give Vicky up for the world."

We talked about things, relaxing and taking our time. The food was good. I wasn't much of a fish person but it didn't smell or taste fishy which already made it a million times better than any other fish I've eaten. Amy was easygoing, letting the conversation lapse when I couldn't think of anything to say right that moment, picking it up again without hesitation when I did. She was a great listener and just seemed comfortable in a way I was a bit envious of.

We covered school, family and super-heroing which led to a bit of an experiment.

"Got it?"

She clamped her hands around the fly and nodded. I let go of it and Amy gasped. "Wait, take control of it again." I glanced around for onlookers and did so. Her brows furrowed. "I thought you were piggybacking on their nervous system, and you kind of are…"

"But?"

She looked up at me. "But it's a part of the nervous system I'm pretty sure doesn't actually exist. Normally." I raised my eyebrows. "I need to get my hands on a bug you haven't touched at all I think, but if I'm right you aren't just controlling them. You're changing them. Look, if I do this…"

Pain instantly exploded in my head. I couldn't back out of the fly fast enough.

"Okay," I gritted out. "That hurt."

Amy had a guilty expression on her face. "I'm so sorry! I should have- bio-feedback, I wasn't thinking. Really wasn't thinking, I -"

"I thought I'd find you two here," Lisa's voice approached the table. I blinked the tears out of my eyes as she pulled out a chair and sat in it like she owned the table. "Don't mind me, dropping by."

She held out her hand and Amy let go of the fly. She hesitated, but then I saw the recognition as she remembered who would be 'dropping by.' "Um…"

On the other side of the table, I was in the perfect position to see the blood drain from Amy's cheeks the moment their hands touched.

"Lisa." She pumped the healer's hand once and had a wan smile on her face. "And yeah, that's about what I thought."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Amy asked faintly. Her hand was locked onto Lisa's in a death grip, as if she was afraid of what might happen if she let go. I stomped down on my urge to answer for her, the bad, because I had the really sinking feeling that there was going to be a lot more of it.

"Good news," Lisa replied.

"Minor bad news first: detoxing is going to suck."

Lisa smirked. "Knew that."

Amy took a deep, fortifying breath. " _But_ ," she drew out. "I can be with you every step of the way to help with the withdrawal symptoms: It would just take a few minutes to clear out most of your nervous system and if you give me…" she paused, getting a far off look in her eye. "An hour? I can make something that will help with the neurotransmitters and receptors in your brain. The cravings will be intense."

"I thought you couldn't do brains?" I could have hit myself for asking the moment the last word left my mouth. If, for whatever reason, Amy could get over that limitation in a bid to help someone, the last thing I wanted to do was argue against it.

"Lifestyle choice," Lisa answered for her and then her eyebrows rose as she looked at Amy. "Temporary lifestyle choice."

"Heroin is an opiate." I shouldn't have, but I winced at hearing what exactly Lisa was hooked on. "It's all chemical. I'm not touching her brain," Amy said resolutely, jutting her chin out a little. "It's just…"

"Proxies." Lisa finished for her. And then with a bit of a morbid flair, "Like a nail gun. Can't trust yourself to punch it in straight, use a tool to do it for you."

Amy went quiet and then cocked her head. "Thinker?"

Lisa wiggled the fingers of her free hand mystically. "Psychic."

Her lips thinned to white lines. "How did this happen then?"

Lisa was aggravatingly nonchalant as she started folding a napkin one handed. "At gunpoint. Don't recommend it." She shrugged, tucking a wisp of blonde hair back underneath the beanie cap she was wearing. She was dressed for a day out, like Amy was, and hopefully it just looked like three teenage girls catching up. "Hit me."

"You have devices at even intervals along your spine," Amy said in monotone, detached. "The lowest one is above the hip, the uppermost is imbedded on the inside of your skull. There are filaments attaching them to each other, five in all."

Lisa chewed her lip thoughtfully. "If I had to guess, they all have to come out at once. Break a line, I go boom."

"Do you think it has sensors to tell if it's being removed?" I asked anxiously, feeling my fish lunch roil in my stomach.

"Oh yeah, he's kind of a paranoid bastard," Lisa waved it off. "Not movement, or else he'd risk losing me to yoga class but environmental? How big we talking here?"

"It's on the inner right side of the vertebrae." Amy drew a small square on her napkin. "An inch at most?"

"Not a lot of room there," Lisa murmured. "But then again, fucking tinkers."

"A tinker did this to you?" I cut in. I couldn't think of any Brockton Bay tinkers. Leet was gone and I really doubted Kid Win or Armsmaster was responsible.

"Some crazy bitch he picked up, not important." She drummed her fingers on the table before waving away the waitress," Just a coffee cake, thanks," and tapping the toe of her sneaker against the table leg. "Can it be removed?"

"Yes," Amy said without hesitation. "Safely is something else entirely."

"So I need to figure out what the trigger condition is. And maybe what kind of bomb, because I'm actually kind of curious."

"Really?" I asked dryly.

Lisa flashed me a smile. "Aren't you?"

"I know how we can find out," Amy spoke up and carefully, slowly let go of Lisa's hand.

"Setting it off on purpose doesn't count," she responded and subtly flexed her fingers underneath the table. "I mean, it's a bit counter-productive? And I would object. Strenuously."

Amy was undeterred. "We can just only _intend_ to set it off."

I was completely lost by this point but Lisa sat up straight. She leaned forward and dropped her voice to just barely audible. "ABB has a precog?"

"They do?" I said, bewildered.

Amy gave us both a weird look, as if we had just asked her if the sky was blue. Then her face sunk as she realized what exactly she had given away on accident. "...yes."

"That explains so much," Lisa whispered hoarsely. "And Reggie's power doesn't…" A grin I could only describe as satanic stole across her face. She threw back her head and outright cackled like a villainous hyena from the Lion King. Amy and I exchanged looks. "Sorry," she sniggered. "But you just gave me something **good.** "

"You're welcome?" Amy tried and then she continued, pleasantly, "If I find out that you used this against her, you won't have to worry about the bomb."

Lisa held up her hands in surrender. "I won't. So, do I get to meet her or what?" She snapped her fingers. "It's Snake, isn't it?"

Amy sighed. "Yeah, let me text my sister so she doesn't tear up the Boardwalk looking for me."

From my impression of Glory Girl, that was probably meant literally.

Lisa got her coffee cake and insisted on eating it there as if she wasn't pressed for time, and in a display of generosity paid the bill for the lunch. It wasn't until after I saw her set down the twenty dollar bill that I realized I had completely forgotten about the lunch box hidden under the bed. On one hand, the legality of it was questionable. On the other, money.

The real question was, what do I spend money liberated from a parahuman criminal mastermind _on_?

Lunch, movies and fifteen dollar coffee was my guess.

We exited the cafe carrying our beverages, iced coffee for me, Amy had sweetened tea and Lisa a soda as well as another coffee cake.

"You know soda dehydrates you?" Amy said lightly, amused. She headed north, which was straight to the ferry station and further up, the Docks. "That's the last thing you need right now."

"I'll make it up later." She took a big gulp from her blue straw.

"No, you won't."

"Yeah, I won't." She agreed, exposing the lie for what it was. "I'm allowed to make terrible health decisions."

Amy sobered. "Were the drugs one of them?"

Lisa didn't take offense. "Didn't have a choice with that either. It's 'candy' to Reggie, too young to know any better. Went cold turkey once," she looked down at the ground and took another obnoxious slurp of her drink. "For reasons. Couldn't keep it up. So!" She chucked the cup, half full into the nearest garbage can. "Where you taking us?"

Amy's eyes drifted back to her cell phone and her thumb scooted along the little keyboard. "The ferry station. Asking a friend to give us a ride."

"Friend?" Lisa tucked her coffee cake bag underneath an arm. "Boyfriend." Amy frowned at her and she corrected herself, "Not boyfriend, but dating. _Trying_ to date but you're both hopeless."

Amy hit the send button dejectedly. "Does she do this to you too?" she asked me.

"Yup." I popped the 'p' and grinned. "Part of her charm."

"Don't you know it!" Lisa barked out a laugh. She draped an arm over my shoulder a bit awkwardly, seeing as I was taller. "For you I'm seeing someone tall, dark and Asian." She tugged at my scarf. "Maybe wearing one of these?" I flushed and that smug grin spread over her face. "Bingo."

'And Bao was his nameo,' my brain rhymed. I palmed my face and futilely tried to purge the jingle. If it was making me think stupid things, then I really had it bad. Talk about a hopeless case.

"You're very carefree," Amy observed.

"Live with doom over your head for a few months and you either get used to it or go crazy. And by the way," she waited until we passed a giggling couple before saying anything. "Proper introductions. Tattletale."

Amy's mouth made a small 'o'. "Just Amy."

"Oh," Lisa began knowingly. "I don't think you're just anything." She mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away the key. "I can keep secrets. Sometimes."

"Do I want to know?" I asked.

Amy hunched her shoulders. "You really don't."

I let it drop. "Gotcha."

The look the healer gave me was brimming with relief and so much gratitude for not pushing that I honestly felt terrible for being curious in the first place. Amy didn't owe me anything and even if Lisa had ferreted something out with her bullshit power, the former New Wave healer was entitled to a few secrets.

As we kept walking the number of people on the Boardwalk thinned. It swelled again once we got near Fugly Bob's but further down the beach was dead in comparison. By the time we reached the ferry station, there was no one else in sight.

Amy's phone buzzed shortly after we got there and she checked it. "He'll be here in a minute."

I looked up and down the sandy stretch for a car. Lisa eyed her cake bag, visibly mulling through the pros and cons of eating it now versus saving it until later. Amy bounced on her toes, full of nervous energy.

Behind us, there was a sudden ripping sound like someone had gotten a hold of a plastic bag and pulled.

"Mask!" Amy shrieked. "I said bring a mask!"

"Forgot," a male voice said timidly.

Her head hit the side of the ferry booth with a dull thump and a disgusted groan.

Amy's not-boyfriend was ridiculously pretty. If it wasn't for the long sleeve shirt with a symbol that looked like a gate on it that didn't hide his Adam's apple or pectoral muscles, it would be easy to mistake him for a pretty girl instead. His hair was black and straight, tied up in a high ponytail and spiked gauge earrings. Pretty boys didn't do it for me but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just the tiniest bit incredulous at meeting a guy who could outdo me on the feminine scale.

"...everyone knows already," he was saying.

Amy thumped her head again. "No, not everyone knows but if you keep doing stuff like this, _then_ everyone will know."

"Bad thing?" he ventured.

Amy held up a finger and paused. I could see where some of the dissonance was coming from, a publicly known unmasked hero lecturing someone else on keeping their identity hidden. "You are so goddamn lucky everyone here has powers," she said instead. "Be more careful next time." She waved a hand at us. "Taylor and Lisa." Then swept her hand back and growled out, "Daisuke"

"New trigger?" Lisa asked sympathetically.

"Trigger?" I repeated.

"Bad day. Get powers." The blonde explained tersely. So there was a name for the kind of shit I went through. I didn't know whether to be relieved that it was a known thing or horrified. Did that mean that all of them here went through something just as bad? Or worse?

"Been a few months," Daisuke shuffled on his feet. "You guys needed to go somewhere?"

"You're Amy's chauffeur?" Lisa smirked.

"Glory Girl Express Airlines only has room for one passenger," he quipped. "I don't mind, good practice."

The sister of the aforementioned Glory Girl fluttered a hand in the air. "You mean you can't say no when people ask you for trivial stuff."

"Right," he agreed easily. "Like fetching your purse."

Amy whirled on him. "That was different and you know it!"

"And what about the time you called me at Min's sleepover because you forgot that you left Mister Stu-"

I was treated to the sight of Amy Dallon moving so fast I thought she had a Mover rating as she slapped her hand over his mouth and quickly said, "Nope! You lose your talking privileges."

Lisa looked like she wanted to squeeze Amy's cheeks and thoroughly embarrass her. "Teddy rabbit?"

Daisuke looked at her in surprise and pried the hand off his mouth. "How'd you know?"

"Psychic." I was getting the feeling she liked delivering that line a little too much.

Amy threw her hands up and stalked off towards the water. "Let's get going before I hurt somebody."

We all followed her at a more sedate pace. The clouds were finally beginning to clear up leaving a wide expanse of blue. It was low tide, just starting to shift, the water creeping up further and further up the sand bank with each wave that rolled in. I tried very hard to keep my power's sticky fingers out of the crabs I could sense.

Lisa glanced at Amy's friend out the corner of her eye. "She give you the 'it's not you, it's me' speech yet?"

He nodded. "Twice."

"Giving up?"

"Never." Shinta frowned thoughtfully, gazing at Amy's stomping figure. "She saved my mom."

The blonde smiled softly at that. "Atta boy."

Amy slowed down, letting us catch up. She puffed a bit, her cheeks red and sand all over her sneakers. "Forgot to say," she sucked in a breath. "Snake's. For where we were going."

Daisuke shrugged. "Cool."

With a tearing sound, the world warped. The beach spun and swirled like it was being sucked down a tube and in it's place, a suburban neighborhood was spat back out. In the space of a single step, I went from wet sand and pebbles to asphalt. My foot hit the suddenly unyielding ground hard.

Some girls want guys with cars. Amy had a teleporter.

"Should have warned you," Daisuke said apologetically as I got up from a near stumble.

"It's fine." The ball of my foot tingled. At least I hadn't stubbed a toe. Amy, out of the blue, poked me in the cheek and the tingling vanished. I rolled my eyes and she stuck her tongue out at me.

"Can you do that to anywhere?" Lisa asked.

"I've got a limit of about a mile but yeah, even if I haven't been there before. Need direction though."

Her expression turned shifty. "Useful that."

"I guess?" He eyed her warily. "What are you thinking…"

"You know," she smiled. "Stuff."

I was thinking about 'stuff' right there along with her. A teleporter was huge tactically, even for something simple like port in, grab Coil and port out into custody before he knew what was happening. Or if that wasn't possible, getting in a huge force multiplier in the right spot, like a certain dragon., or rescuing the other hostages he had, or...it probably wouldn't be that easy, not by a long shot, but it was a start.

The house Amy led us to matched the others on the street. Two story, white with a gorgeous cherry wood door with diamond patterned leadlight windows. The driveway was a curved U leading up to the front door and then back out onto the street. The few flowers it had blooming by the front steps had Amy's fingerprints written all over them with bright, odd colors and bizarre shapes. Not too odd, but a little out there. Nothing an excuse of 'exotic seeds' couldn't gloss over.

This looked like south Brockton Bay with the bigger and brighter homes for the better off, but seeing as how much of southside was Empire-claimed, I doubted it. There were pockets around the downtown neutral zone of upper class neighborhoods, so we must be in one of them.

"Doesn't live in Dragon City, huh?" Lisa inclined her neck to look over the house.

"She's lived here for years." Amy hunted around the potted plants. "Her husband passed away a few years ago, so it's just her now."

Shinta stepped up and rang the doorbell just as Amy came up with a spare key. The door opened almost immediately.

"Annnnd...not pizza."

"Peter?" I blurted out.

Sure enough, Winslow's jersey number 17 stood in the doorway with headphones hanging around his neck and a fistful of dollar bills. This time his bracelet was a red, yellow and black coral snake and it looked brand new. Amy sighed and dropped the key back into a plant.

"Everyone's here, aren't they?"

"Pretty much." Peter nodded. "Tony's wrecking Kam at Mario Kart so bad. It's pitiful."

"That's because he cheats like a motherfucker." Daisuke said dryly.

"All skill, man. Taylor, hey." He smiled with a curiously uninjured face. "What's up?" He moved aside for us to brush past him and scanned the road before pouting. "I'm hungry, damn it."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hanging out," he said in a Captain Obvious tone. "Speaking of, did Miss Dallon break the rules?"

"Miss Dallon did not!" Amy called back in annoyance from further in the house. I could hear Lisa snickering as she followed behind her. Daisuke faded from sight with that violent sound, and then I heard his voice even further in the house.

Peter's eyebrows jumped as he put the money onto a small table by the door. "Okay then, welcome to the club." He held out his hand but before I could shake it, his arm rippled. "Browbeat."

Open, was my first thought. Very open. His question of Amy was probably a code of some sort, telling them what kind of guests were coming through but once I got the 'all clear' I was in. No questions asked. It wasn't some kind of ploy to gain my trust, I already had theirs. The scarf seemed uncomfortably warm around my neck. I tugged it free and let the gold dragon glitter in the light.

I shook his hand firmly. "Hachi."

It only hit me how bizarre it all was after. A high school jock was shaking hands with school pariah because we were both parahumans and affiliated with a gang. Bizarre didn't quite cover it. Surreal. "Kam is here too?"

"Yeah," he said casually. "I met her first. Independent hero-ing and all that." He settled back on a cushioned wooden bench by a mat for shoes and coat rack. Sneakers I thought were his sat on the floor by him, black and red Air Jordans. "Independents don't last long. Made sense to join up."

He said it completely matter-of-factly, giving me the impression that it actually was the entire story. He weighed pros and cons, maybe talked to a few people and then made his decision. Cut and dry. Done. "Why not join the Wards?"

"Thought about it," he admitted. "They were giving my parents some pitches. But," he wiggled his sock covered toes. "Losing team."

You don't become a hero to win, was my first thought but it rang hypocritical. Hadn't I done the same thing? If winning wasn't the point, I'd be rubbing shoulders with Gallant or Clockblocker right now.

"Makes sense," I said instead.

He smiled a little. "Thought so too. Main room is straight ahead, right? But if you're going to wander around, shoes have to come off."

"Oh!" I bent down and started untying my laces. "A cultural thing?"

"If beating your ass 'cause you tracked mud on the mats is cultural, sure."

"Speaking from experience?" I teased him, feeling a little unsure of myself poking fun at someone else.

Peter let his jaw slacken, putting on a comically haunted expression. "There was no winning that day." His stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly. He clutched it and moaned, "I give up. There's a doorbell, they can use it. Raiding the fridge."

He left the money where it was and I had to blink. It was a bit of a brain bender thinking of precognition. Did Snake know she would be meeting me before I did? Did her disapproval stem from what she saw me do in the future? Did she already know she was going to say no, but made me show up on Pier 4 anyway?

Regardless, it was likely that no one was getting away with anything in her house so something like leaving twelve dollars on a table? Trivial. If anyone was going to take it, Snake would know before the theft even happened.

Just thinking that; we were here to find out what would happen if we set the bombs along Lisa's spine off without actually doing so made me feel strange.

"Where can I find Snake?" I asked before he left the foyer. Peter gave me a one-armed shrug.

"Through the main room to the right, out the sliding glass door. She's usually on the porch."

I swallowed some of my anxiety. Everything was going to be okay. "Thanks."

"No problem and hey," he turned back and slugged his cheek in slow-mo. "You got Emma good."

I laughed.

I had to admit, there was nothing on the outside that would have prepared me for what Snake's interior decorating looked like. The classic white of the outside siding had been shuffled away in exchange for walnut colored wallpaper that had borders of moss green with silver scrawling writing. Sanskrit?

Color was on everything from the mats that dominated the floor, to the oil paper banners hanging from the ceiling. The furniture was all polished wood with scrawling, carved designs and the chairs were square and utilitarian. Eclectic murals hung on the walls with images of what might have been Buddha and the main room had what looked like an honest to god tiger pelt throw rug.

"Is that real?" I said outloud. It even still had it's teeth showing through a gaping maw. The thing was huge, easily six feet across and the skinned legs with claws were splayed out at its sides. I nudged a foot with my toes. The claws alone must have been about four inches long.

Shit.

I was suddenly very glad it was just a rug.

"Getting it through customs must have been a bitch."

I jumped and whirled around, heart in my throat as if I had transplanted myself into the depths of an Indian jungle where tigers were alive and one was stalking me.

Kameswari stood behind me holding a blue plastic bowl, popcorn halfway to her mouth and eyebrows raised. She had on a similar tunic and pants combo that Min's mother had worn, except with a plunging V neck that could be tied closed. She left it open. Cue bust envy. Amusingly, she had little Taj Mahal earrings. "Jumpy," she observed.

I waved a hand at the rug. "Teeth and claws." I looked back at it, the eye sockets had a resin stand-in of pale yellow and slitted pupils underneath angry brows. That snarling mouth could probably swallow my head. "And teeth."

Kam smiled her little, subdued smile and finished popping the popcorn in her mouth. She didn't have Kali's symbol on, which made me wonder. Did she only declare herself when she went out?

"Why does she have a tiger rug?"

"It's neat?" Kam offered as an explanation. "Snake's from Tibet. Something rich people do over there, I guess. The snow leopard one is upstairs."

Nothing like the preserved corpse of a giant, vicious cat to get the conversation going.

"Amy invite you?" Kam asked.

"Yeah, we're friends." I think. I hope. I opened my mouth to ask what her cape name was, but thought better of it. If every parahuman had one of those 'triggers,' worst day of their lives in order to get powers it was probably better I don't go digging. Kam didn't seem nearly as upfront as Peter and I didn't want to push my luck. I had no way to be one hundred percent sure she even was a cape. Maybe she and Browbeat had a sidekick thing going on.

Still, like Peter, her face was free of any blemishes like the split lip I could have sworn she sported in the meeting with the principal. I was briefly jealous. Being able to heal myself would have been amazing.

"Thank you," I choked out.

"Hmm?" Crunch. Crunch. Went the popcorn.

"For what you did with Sophia," I explained. I didn't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for the blue jello, but I knew it couldn't have been anything good.

"She had it coming." Kam's smile took on a slant. "Don't mention it."

"Did Amy heal you?" That was subtle enough, I thought.

No dice.

Kam shook her head. "Heal fast."

I stared at her with a bit of irritation. She really wasn't making this easy for me. It wasn't that I felt entitled to knowing, but I was really hoping that she, what, trusted me? Liked me enough? I didn't know so I dropped it entirely.

An older guy walked into the room with reading glasses tucked into the U collar of his shirt and crew cut brown hair, snagged the popcorn bowl from Kam's unresisting hands and walked out. "Hey newbie," he called back, breaking the awkward non-conversation we were having.

"Who was…?"

"Tony." Kam smiled. "You get used to it."

I could remember Peter mentioning that name before. "Mario Kart?"

Kam looked a little frustrated as she brushed a hand through her long hair. "He's playing Daisuke. I volunteered to get the popcorn so I could finally stop losing."

"It's Mario Kart," I said. I wasn't one to play video games but I could vaguely remember the television commercials of brightly colored go carts driven by cartoon characters. It really wasn't what came to mind when I thought of 'competitive' or 'challenging.'

"Yeah, well, it's Tony."

Behind me, quick footsteps rushed up and I turned in time to see Amy slide along the wooden floor in her socks past the glass covered cupboards and low table expertly. She did that a lot I see. "We're about to start, did you want to…?"

"Yes!" I nearly yelled. There was no way I was sitting on the sidelines now. I felt like I had invested too much into it to not see it through, like to do otherwise would be passing off the responsibility. I knew Lisa wouldn't appreciate me thinking like that, of her as something I was responsible for but I couldn't help it.

"Something going on?" Kam asked.

"Saving someone," Amy was very confident, head held high. "We might need Peter, can you get him?"

The Indian girl nodded. "Right."

"Last I heard, he was getting food." I volunteered, then to Amy, "What would he be doing?"

"Modeling. His body is fascinating and he has _no_ problems showing it off," Amy said dryly. My jaw dropped.

"What?"

"Just like my sister; that was too easy," Amy grinned. "Come on!"

I followed her, cautiously hopeful.

Snake's porch was actually an outdoor extension of the house itself. The sliding glass doors opened onto a lopping walkway that was closed off from the outside was full length windows and the walkway itself was covered in the same wood flooring used inside. The upper fifths of the windows were separated with latches so air could be let in but they were currently shut. The entire thing showed off the spacious backyard garden and curled around an old oak in the center. Just walking through was calming.

Snake herself was at the outermost center point on the loop, by one of the windows that had a handle and door frame leading down black stone steps. Surprisingly, Nabiki was seated a little ways away at a low table with a cup of steaming tea. She looked, well, better was subjective; she still looked like she wouldn't mind if everyone in the world up and died tomorrow but she'd been cleaned up some.

Lisa was outside, pacing.

Snake looked me over, still with that bland smile on her face. "Got what you wanted, did you?"

I was highly tempted to just flip her the bird. "Happy now?"

"No."

Saw that coming.

"Are you helping at least?" I spat out. It was probably uncharitable of me, but one thing I could do very well was hold a grudge. Ironically considering his temper, Dad was a forgive and forget kind of guy. My tendency to stew came from Mom.

"Why would I not?" Snake asked rhetorically as she stepped outside and used her cane to get down the stairs. That dissonance jolted me out of my negativity.

"Why hasn't Amy healed you?"

"I did not wish her to," Snake said. "I earned this wound. I would remember it."

We all gathered by a weeping willow tree with bright yellow lilies blooming at it's base. Lisa was rubbing her hands together, outwardly looking calm. I fidgeted and prodded a fly into making a suicidal strafing run underneath some flowers where a starving spider was waiting in its web.

Peter trailed off the porch with his socks folded together and stuffed into a pant pocket leaving him barefoot. "What's up?"

"Bomb disposal," Amy said.

"And I was having such a nice day," he quipped. "Pizza finally arrived. They were late, didn't charge me a dime."

"Are you always so detached?" I blurted out.

Peter just gave me this patient look before shrugging the question off. "What am I doing?"

"It's basically a set of implanted bombs along her spine," Amy explained. Lisa waved. "There's one on the inside of her skull too and they are all connected. And, uh, you've been blown up before so…"

"Not my best moment," he cracked a grin. "Dense bone, dense as I could make it around the bombs. Guessing breaking the connections are a bad thing?"

"Very," Lisa said tersely.

"Right, so, here." He held out his arm and Amy laid a hand on it. "You want to shape the explosion out so spongy on the outside and all the rest like this." I couldn't see any visible changes in his arm but that was to be expected with bone deep changes. "Got it?"

"The main problem is we think it's monitoring her vitals, maybe the electricity going through the spine?" Amy chewed on her bottom lip. "So I need to build artificial nerves and power them."

"Go the whole shebang," Peter said. "Give it a pulse just in case."

"Heart, nerves, I like the hexagonal patterns in the hardened marrow there."

"Thanks."

" _Focus_ ," Lisa pleaded. "Don't keep a girl in suspense. Yay or nay?"

Amy smiled and reached out with her other hand. Lisa grasped it tightly. "I'm going to dull your pain receptors in that area, alright?"

"Right." Lisa blinked rapidly. "Okay."

Amy took a deep breath. "I'm going to do what we just talked about and make a set of secondary organs to trick the sensors. and encase it all. Then we can pull it all out at once."

"Or transfer it," Peter volunteered.

Lisa nodded and for a moment, I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. "I'm ready."

Amy's face darkened. "If I ever get my hands on who did this to you…"

The next few minutes were nerve-wrackingly tense. Lisa's back bulged in a line of growths like something was hatching underneath the skin complete with audio of squelching and shifting flesh. I swallowed my lunch back down.

Snake looked on passively.

When that was done, a solid, fleshy column running down the length of Lisa's spine, Amy breathed," And now for the one in your head. Just going to move it."

A part of Lisa's scalp sunk and twisted slowly.

"Drink a lot of milk after this," Amy whispered.

"I'll do anything you want," Lisa replied.

Amy's smile was distracted. "Moving it ou-"

 _"Stop."_

Every one of us froze.

Peter chuckled weakly. "We just died a horrible death there, didn't we?"

Snake frowned as she leaned heavily on her cane. "You'll need to make it resistant to burning. It's a chemical explosion of some sort, creating corrosive fire."

Amy nodded. "Doing."

"Fire?" Lisa said suddenly. She looked around as if seeing where she was, who she was with for the first time. "Oh _fuck._ "

There was a blink of bright light barely seconds later, before the whump of an explosion slammed into my chest along with pain, and fire. I felt it strike my arms and shoulder, and then the burning started as my clothes ignited where it hit.

I felt fabric burn all the way through until it reached my skin and I felt it melt from the heat. I heard a loud, tortured scream as I landed on my back and rolled, trying to put the fire out, dimly wondering who was screaming. I managed to scrape off the worst of it as I frantically rolled, leaving smoking patches of glowing white that still hissed and burned as they melted small divots inside a ring of burnt grass. I only saw what looked like a metallic sheen to the burning substance.

I looked up and around, hoping, everything seemed to be burning. The leaves of the willow above us crumbling into ash. I could see Peter, the skin on his hands blackened. Amy and Snake. _Lisa._

That person was still crying.

It wasn't until I took a strangled, horrified breath and it stopped that I realized the scream was coming from _me._

Lisa didn't make a sound as she fell. A puppet with its strings cut.


	12. Interlude, Coil

**Interlude, Coil**

* * *

In the dubiously credited words of Sir Winston Churchill, "A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity, an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."

Coil would readily admit to being an optimist. Hope for the best while making a few preparations for the less ideal outcomes, the glass was half-full and the quarter would land on heads. It was easy to be positive, when one can choose their current reality.

In one, he was safely tucked away in his underground base, costumed, with no less than twenty armed soldiers between himself and multiple sets of blast doors rated for massive concussive force. A stalling tactic. He had spent his night following the news and checking his stocks. By all accounts, Richter had outdone himself. His specialty helped in making exponential leaps in progress and he was intelligent enough to take advantage of it. He and Dragon would be busy for the upcoming months. Good.

His location was on a need-to-know basis with those who worked for him. A full psychological report, background check and a few assurances for each, with one special case.

In the other, he was enjoying a mild Saturday afternoon in a restaurant downtown that had adequately spaced private booths, a fine wine list, and he had developed a particular taste for their basil-lime grouper dish. He was dressed nicely in a button-up shirt and dark-gray dress suit with a checkered silk tie. He chose one of the cheaper, palatable red wines and splurged a little with his dessert order of New York cheesecake. It was a carefully crafted image of a gainfully employed salaried business man, quintessential white collar.

The seat across from him was already set up with a beverage menu, forks and knives and a covered hotplate of lemon-pepper shrimp scampi. The napkin was still artfully arranged in its pyramid of creases and he waited.

His guest was a man in his late twenties although the stress marks on his face tended to increase age estimates. He wore khakis and a short sleeved button-up shirt with a plain blue tie. He moved carefully, as if expecting the very air to push back against him.

He sat down with a bit of a nervous twitch, running a hand through prematurely thinning dark hair and casting his eyes about the room. He lifted the lid from the plate and stared at his shrimp.

"Have you already eaten?" Coil asked.

"No, sir." The lid was set aside on the fold out tray sitting beside their table for that purpose. The green napkin pyramid was shaken out and a fork picked up as if it was a knife. Pause. "Did you receive my report?"

"Yes. Excellent work, Daniels. Prospects for this month are looking up," Coil praised. He was never sparing with compliments when they were deserved. To do otherwise was to invite resentment. He delicately speared a piece of fish and roasted tomato. "I trust everything is going well with your new supervisor?"

"She's not used to command but she has potential." Daniels followed suit and began eating. "I'm looking into other channels, see if we can't get some more transfers."

A schism, as with anything, weakens. Coil wished he could take the credit but at the same time, it was most of his work done for him. Marital problems; the prelude to the fall of an empire.

The lunch conversation continued, a boss and his subordinate. As far as Daniels was concerned, that was all it was. The name 'Coil' was a background detail. The man he was meeting was another like him, someone who had been contacted for a job. Innocuous phrases were used but not too many. The obscurity was hardly necessary, in many ways, it was just business. Cutthroat competition in a different medium and he was intent on coming out on top. Everyone had their price. It was only a matter of deciding if it was worth paying.

Daniels had a past that needed cleaning, a fresh start. Regrets, stubborn addictions. Whether it was a conscious acknowledgement or not, Brockton Bay was a city that everyone knew was already written off. But a chance at putting it under new management, stable leadership and working to subvert a criminal gang from within? Getting the papers signed was as easy as handing the man a pen.

Everyone had a hook, a vice or something they needed on a primal, desperate level. At times, they were unaware of it until it was brought out and nurtured, so it could later be hand fed. Those people who were driven by such things, that craving lurking close to the surface, were among Coil's favorite people. They came a very close second to the people who were useful and those who were both?

To do anything less than stockpile them as valuable assets would be criminally incompetent.

Coil was not incompetent.

Daniels didn't have dessert. Coil ordered a large cinnamon bun for him anyway. He had looked at the paper bag and it's pine green bakery logo with a thoughtful grimace but held on to it. As Coil knew he would. Daniels didn't have a sweet tooth.

Kayden Russel did.

Setting up covert agents was more than telling people to do something and hope they don't get found out. It was identifying the result you want, the best person who can accomplish that and then finding a close facsimile. Shore up the rough spots, provide a bit of motivation and then let them loose.

The Trojans celebrated their victory by wheeling the giant wooden horse into the gates of the city.

An elegant solution for a complicated problem.

He observed the cape scene of Brockton Bay much like one would peer into a cage of howling monkeys at a zoo. Detached; with the gentle amusement that came from watching lesser creatures go about their day in ways that are easily understood, a pleasant surprise. At times they flung poo at each other, costing the city hundreds of thousands of dollars repairing the collateral damage. They had their little playground and most couldn't see the rust on their gilded cage for what it was.

Max Anders was a snake in the cage of primates. Dangerous, but that danger was in the ideological poison. The man either broke his followers, or he made true believers of them. Of no use to anyone else either way.

 _Waste._

Prowling the corners was Lung. Coil would liken her to a tiger in the little analogy of his. The PRT kept their eyes on her, the more immediate, flashy threat and wore little masks shaped to look like a face on the back of their heads when they had to deal with distractions, as if simply watching meant she would do nothing.

He couldn't fault Emily for that, if he were to be completely honest. A kill order on an S-rank cape willing to 'play ball' was a very hard sell to Costa-Brown and anything less had a high risk of failure.

He had no such restrictions.

Coil's cheesecake arrived soon after he paid the bill and polished off the last of his grouper meal. It was topped with a few fresh strawberries and a moist sugary crust with slivers of almond baked in. The fork slid in smoothly and he lifted it to his mouth.

In the other reality, the phone in his underground office rang urgently.

The Coil there answered it. "What?"

"Sir, we have a situation." The crisp, military tones sank both of their stomachs. The bite of cheesecake was turning to ash in his mouth.

"Report." His other self barked into the receiver.

"Boardwalk spotted Tattletale leaving with Amy Dallon and another unknown individual. We just lost sight of her."

For a long moment, Coil was simply confused. His Tattletale wasn't an idiot even if she tried his patience on multiple occasions. He'd commissioned her device specifically for dealing with Panacea, on several levels. She knew none of the failsafes, none of the trigger conditions and this was far too reckless of her. She was a schemer and unless she managed to slip one by him, possible but unlikely, then this was exactly what it looked like.

"Lost sight of her how?"

"Unknown teleporter, sir."

Now that was a good girl. She was revealing new, vital information about ABB without even trying."I want eyes on her, yesterday."

"Yes, sir."

And his Tattletale wasn't dumb so that meant this had a decent chance of actually working somehow. His personal cell-phone was stubbornly quiet as he sat in the restaurant, mechanically eating his dessert as he waited in the other reality for updates.

He had hated the moments when he felt the most vulnerable, when he'd just started a fresh use of his power and his selves were too close to one another. He'd strived to keep both lives as separate as possible, made Choice A and Choice B distinct. He could still only choose one or the other. And here he was, downtown and at least a half hour away from the base in the civilian persona, carefully fabricated, eating cheesecake.

Choice A was to continue with his Saturday afternoon and risk his Tattletale slipping out from underneath his fingertips, and with her every scrap of information about him and his operations that she had ferreted out.

Choice B was to move early and spring the trap he had been priming her for. Neither were ideal.

And it all came down to the girl's irritatingly unfortunate sense of timing.

Coil palmed his face, checked his phone for any messages and finished his cheesecake. He got up and headed back to the parking lot, nodding in farewell to the manager of the restaurant and made a beeline for his off-white four year old Prius.

The Coil in his base got up and felt a rush of sensation trickle back into his feet. He padded back and forth and then sat down again. He keyed an intercom and the accompanying screen of a boy's bedroom, complete with blue wallpaper, legos and books as well as Mr. Pitter on standby for a calculated dosage.

Pitter was small, unassuming and ordinary. A registered nurse with an eight year record as a nanny and caretaker to a pair of very ill children. Had an absolute mess of a divorce, the kind where his loving wife employed scorched-earth tactics using allegations of child molestation. The woman disappearing and his name cleared were all he wanted. Both useful and bought with something stronger than currency.

"Reggie, I have a few questions for you." Coil spoke into the microphone.

Reggie looked up from his Lincoln Logs. Trailing on the left side of his neck and the back of his hands were pockmarked burn scars.

"Again?"

"The usual first."

"Five people know Coil's civilian identity. Seventy Two people know the primary entrance to this building. One hundred and thirty four people know the secondary entrance to this building."

The answers were the same as they had been that morning.

"How many know you are here?" He asked.

Reggie blinked. "Nine people."

"How many in this city know how to physically find Coil?"

"Two hundred and seven."

He turned the questions towards his ambitions. "Are my spies in the PRT compromised?"

Reggie stared at the screen for a moment and squinted. "No," he said eventually.

"Does Kaiser know what I am planning?"

The boy concentrated and few, faint traces of backlash bled onto his young face. "No."

"Does Lung know what I am planning?"

He bodily winced this time. "An...idea? Sort of?" He looked down, away from the lights. "Can I have candy now?"

Good enough. Coil collapsed the world where he had went out for lunch. That reality swiftly faded, leaving only the world where he drank far too much coffee staying up all night, needed a new office chair and had an unruly subordinate to deal with. Only the memory of cheesecake and strawberries on his tongue remained.

He went back to the phone. "You found her." It wasn't a question. His men were at least competent with a pair of binoculars and behavior patterns of targets were well documented. Where would Amy Dallon go with a problem? "Primary target is Panacea. Is she in close proximity?"

"Yes, sir. Extraction is commencing."

"Detonate."

Then he divided the realities once more, less than a minute between the erasure of one existence and the creation of another.

In one reality, he headed out of his office into the exterior wings of the base and down the metal staircase to the lower level. The base was still in development but nearing completion. Empty crates and boxes were being stacked, bunk beds for soldiers on call, a fully equipped medical bay, stocks and facilities for the kitchens, weapons. He could easily recall the two-dimensional blueprints, having spent hundreds of collective hours pouring over it and to see it taking shape had been a treasure.

He owned the company that had built the underground shelters in Brockton Bay and neighboring cities. Hiding the details on his base in-construction was a matter of intercepting information, paying with his own money and controlling what was reported and to whom. The boy's power was invaluable in making sure no-one noticed the disparity. A few words, exchanged bills and he relieved the burden of parenthood from someone who didn't want it. His best investment.

The only drawback was its sensitivity to the phenomenon known as Thinker Interference. Knowledge gained via the use of parahuman abilities never seemed to register quite right. That was where his Tattletale had come in handy.

His other self remained in the office with another screen, another intercom. "Bakuda."

The half-asian woman bent over her table jerked and swore profusely as something sparked. Coil tensed and eyed the screen suspiciously, waiting for reality to start warping. This was the reason she was off-site, far off-site and under 24/7 surveillance.

He didn't fancy a black hole in his base.

"What, what, what?" She scowled at the video screen. Bakuda's unmasked face was distinctive in that it subverted expectations. Unconventional. A bit darker-skinned into an ambiguous tone and pale blue eyes.

"I am moving up the schedule for your special projects. We move soon."

The woman's face split into a wide, almost manic grin. _"Finally."_

A promising response. In the other world he made contact with the captains of his troops, informing them of the changed schedule and ordering the beginning of several contingencies. Check the PRT reports, the hospital records, confirm the result.

"How soon can I expect you to be done?" He asked over the intercom.

Bakuda waved back at her lab. "The big one is already done. The others," she chewed on her lip and looked upward, running the estimate in her head. She had attended Cornell for two years before her Trigger for Chemical Engineering, 'dumb' was not a word that could be easily used to describe her. Other words fit more readily. "A week tops for all of them."

Bombs were not delicate problem solvers but with his 'jury rigged' delivery system they were superb for provoking a response.

"I have a few targets in mind."

The E88 would be easy to handle, getting easier by the day. The growing chasm in the gang between members and their relative frailty. Given the chance to run the Empire into the ground like cats scurrying after mice, the PRT had no choice but to take it. Their reputation was already in tatters, public opinion shedding percentage points each passing year.

Nitta Noriko was simply annoying to try to work around. So he wouldn't.

He entertained a brief fantasy of being able to land a preemptive strike before the transformation and having the glass statue as a trophy. The only problem would be where to put her. It wouldn't match the decor.

He'd figure it out.

Next on his list of capes to contact were Trickster and Grue. He didn't like interacting with people, especially not subordinates as important as the Travelers or Undersiders, without the ability to create or banish the reality if the discussion didn't go his way. Here, he was safe. His other self was with the troops updating priority targets, individuals to watch out for.

It was a momentary setback, now that he thought about it. He was already close.

One step at a time.

Just a little optimism.


	13. Beetle

**Beetle**

* * *

I reeled for a few seconds; hundreds of me were dying, smothered in smoke and heat. I couldn't remember when I had grabbed them. I kept the survivors because they were survivors. The spider I had fed earlier was gone. Putting my feet under me was as much trial as it was error. Pain washed over me from my arm in waves. I refocused on Peter's back, his hands, and then he turned.

His shirt was cooked into his skin. He took the brunt of it, standing at Lisa's side and incidentally blocking me from the worst of it. I could see the red fibers sticking out of blackened patches and the skin on his hands were literally flaking off. He hissed, long and loud, moving gingerly and he blinked with reddened eyes.

"Not fire proof enough," he croaked. His lips cracked and blood dribbled down his chin. His skin rippled and pushed white hot metal fragments out. _"Fuck."_

Amy let out a short, pained cry, choking on it.

She'd been directly in front of Lisa and the explosion was directed away, but just from the proximity alone… Her skin was reddened, already puckering into angry red blisters in some places. There were patches the color of ash and sagging on her hands. Tears were coming thick and fast down her cheeks. Peter staggered over to her. His face bleached under the reddening of his skin and she latched onto him, swaying. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked on the verge of collapsing.

"Amy," he called.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

"Someone you need to save." He knelt carefully, and Amy went down with him unable to stay standing. He grabbed her wrists behind the burns and laid them on cooler patches of Lisa's skin.

She jolted. _"Oh God…"_

"Use me," he said. The urgency in his voice galvanized Amy into action. He pressed both hands, flaking, onto Lisa's back. The flesh under his fingers looked more like overdone hamburger meat than a person and I bent over double, dry heaving. When I managed to raise my head again, he was buried up to his forearms somehow, the rest of his arms simply didn't exist past that point, fused.

"Breathe for her too," Amy said thickly. Peter's chest expanded grotesquely like a balloon as he took in a deep breath.

"- the fuck happened?" Daisuke faded into sight by the house, eyes wide.

Amy's head jerked up and she blinked tears away. She started giving him urgent directions, "Get the blue, no green! Cap vial from the shoebox under my bed. Dallon house, second floor, third door on the right."

He didn't ask questions and tore away.

"Lacerations, internal bleeding, collapsed lung and it's bleeding too, her bones held, that's...that's good," Amy rattled off faintly. "God, she's burned so bad...she's lost so much of everything."

"Pulse?" Snake asked softly. She'd been the furthest away and just looked like she got a bad sunburn. The hem of her pants was in the process of catching on fire. I stared at the flaring embers but couldn't work up the energy to say anything.

Amy shook her head roughly. "Have brain activity," she said full of hope. "I modified her skull the most. Restarting heart, I need to -"

"The burns first," Peter warned. He spit a glob of blood to the side. Amy touched him briefly and the worst of his burns lightened. "Triage. Link our circulatory too, I'll make clotting agents."

"Already done, she...she wasn't getting enough oxygen…Taylor," Amy croaked. Her hands were taking on a leathery texture and were dark red, some of the blisters weeping as she moved her fingers. I thought about the amount of pain she must be in and felt my respect for her sky rocket. "Get sugar or honey, milk, anything like that."

I nodded even though no one was looking at me. "Where -"

"Backtrack to foyer, right," Snake told me. The woman had a thousand yard stare as she watched Peter and Amy work, seeing something else.

I scrambled back inside. The windows closest to the blast had fine spidering cracks. The one window in front of where Nabiki still sat had shattered, but _outwards_. The woman hadn't even stood up, but she stared out the broken window at Lisa's bo - at Lisa. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated and unfocused. Her breathing shallow like she was seeing something else. I passed by Kam who only spared me a glance before single mindedly marching towards the porch. Little bumps were shifting underneath her skin.

Ha, I thought numbly. She's a cape too. Knew it.

Tony was already in the kitchen with what looked like a first aid kit in his hands. "Outside?" He asked me.

I nodded again and felt like the most useless person in the world when I opened the refrigerator door. Milk. I grabbed a branch of grapes as well, then started rooting around on the counter top. There were two shakers filled with white crystals but neither had labels. I tossed my head back and shook one on my tongue. Salt. I grabbed the other, identical one and headed back outside.

The scene that greeted me was a bit more crowded than before. Kam had an arm fused into Lisa as well. It fluctuated in size, going from healthy to having the muscle and fat stripped from it leaving an emaciated, skeletal limb before it recovered only for the process to repeat. Each time Peter looked a little better, Lisa gained a bit more. Each time, Kam grimaced with pain.

Tony was running water over towels from an outside tap. A damp cloth was thrown over the burning, metallic pile that had been thrown clear from the force of the explosion, the fleshy remains of its encapsulation sizzled.

Everything smelled like burning. Burning meat, burning grass, burning wood and a nauseating oil and latex smell over top. Ash particles floated in the air.

Daisuke got back clutching a plastic specimen cup with a green top and yellow smiley face sticker on it like it was gold. It looked like it was stuffed with molding wet paper towels.

"I - I think I ran into your sister - "

"Put one on her," Amy ordered. He fished out a towel and laid it flat on Lisa's back. It had a long, burned furrow in it with raw edges. "Tony, treat Taylor with this."

He grabbed it and used a slim pair of silver scissors to cut the burned sleeve of my hoodie off. The towel felt like ice. "Easy there," he whispered. "Burns are nasty." He soaked a cotton ball with milk and let it dribble over the towel. I thought the mold moved.

"Are you a doctor?" I blurted out. Thinking was hard. I kept seeing the moment of the explosion over and over again. Replay. I was probably in shock.

For a moment, Tony's face fell. "Used to play one on TV."

"What do you need me to do?" Daisuke asked Amy a bit desperately. I knew the feeling. The milk carton was starting to dent underneath my fingers and I set it down. Tony swiped it.

"Nothing here," Amy said tersely.

"Help put out the fires," I chimed in. He rushed off before I had even finished the sentence, blinking between the pile of towels and smoking fires.

I crept forward with my groceries, paper towel medical taped to my arm and when I got the go ahead, poured the sugar on Lisa's back. The mold rapidly spread. It was like watching the sped up time lapse footage of multiplying bacteria. I could see it devouring the sugar. Amy dug a finger into the mold and it surged over the fuzzy confines of the damp fibers onto Lisa's burns. Then it burrowed in and seeped out of sight. The dead, burned skin began to dissolve.

Amy let out a slow breath. "Good thinking with the grapes. Crush one and put it on every minute or so," she told me quietly. "Kam, I - I forgot to dull the pain, I'm so sorry, I -"

"You're the one burned," Kam retorted and gently used her other hand to poke Amy in the forehead, who hissed. "You can't heal yourself, right?"

"Technically," Amy murmured. She held up her finger. "Grabbed a little for myself, I'll be okay." And then, painfully, "There's brain damage. Bleeding."

"Over pressure is a bitch," Peter confirmed. "I don't know if I'm helping there."

"You are," Amy said. "I...I just…" She froze up. _"I can't."_

For a moment, Kam and Peter simply stared at her. Mutely, Amy detached Kam and didn't meet anyone's eyes.

"Bullshit," Peter snorted loudly. I looked back over. "Try the other one. Has bells on it."

"You won't," Kam observed, frowning heavily. "Why?"

Amy's eyes darted over to Snake frantically, as if pleading for help. "It's too easy to change things," she defended herself weakly. "What if I mess up who they are supposed to be?"

"Bleeding." Peter pointed out. "In the brain. At this point, you could probably make her _gay_ and she wouldn't give a fuck."

Amy flinched.

"One step, Amy," Snake spoke suddenly, reminding us all that she was still there. "Remember? One step at a time."

"I didn't code the bacteria for neurons," Amy murmured. Her face went blank as she stared down at Lisa. She reached out, quick, and pulled back shuddering. She curled into herself and got up. "Now it is. Paramedics on their way?"

Tony nodded. "Called them as soon as I could."

"Good. Excuse me."

She didn't walk away fast enough to stop us from hearing her cry.

I looked down at Lisa's still body. I couldn't tell if she was even breathing. I didn't feel much anger. The fear was dulled. It would come back later.

I crushed a grape.

* * *

The aftermath was a certain kind of anticlimactic. The kind that prefaced a sequel where you weren't sure whether to get your hopes up or not and you were left hanging in an emotional limbo. I didn't know enough to feel relief just yet. I was sure there were worse things on the horizon.

"My mistake," Snake had admitted, sitting on her front doorstep. "Mistaking the effect for the cause. Nothing we did, a manual detonation."

"Manual?" I repeated. "Manual."

 _Son of a bitch._

The flashing lights of the ambulances on the street blinded me.

There were normal black and white police cars with their red and blue flickering light bars on the tops and the officers themselves worked to cordon off the house. A small crowd of gawkers were milling about on the sidewalks, or on the front step of their homes. I could see faces, open mouthed and pale staring from windows. Lisa was still unconscious and there was no telling when she would wake up, if she woke up. Peter had collapsed shortly after he got his arms back, mid joke. The paramedics had panicked at first. Probably because he was just this side of well done but he was stable. Amy herself was stuffed in a gurney for second and third degree flash burns with Daisuke hovering over her.

I hoped 'keeps ticking after being horrifically injured' was too vague of a power to out Peter.

Stupid thing to be worrying about.

Last I saw, Kam and Tony were still putting out fires in the backyard along with some police officers. I don't know what Tony said to talk them into letting them stay to help, but it worked. The stuff burned stubbornly and clung to materials. We all could have died, burning to death. I could have died.

My hands trembled. The fear still didn't come. Just lots of bugs, in the ground, in the air filling up the empty space in my head.

The paramedic at my side peeled off the paper towel carefully, hesitating at the slightest resistance to make sure none of it was sticking to the burn. When it finally came off, it looked a lot better. There was a depression in my arm covered with pink, raw new skin.

"Hmph, Panacea's work?" The woman smiled almost wistfully. "That girl…" She covered it with fresh gauze and antiseptic. "Eat lots of protein and take vitamin supplements for a few days, alright?"

I made the mental note and nodded. "Is Amy going to be alright?"

I was too much of a coward to ask about Lisa.

The paramedic patted my knee. "From what I could see, yes. A bit of painkiller, lots of food and therapy for her hands and she'll be right as rain."

"And Peter?"

"He…" she paused and pursed her lips. "He's hardy," she finished. "Has he always been…?"

It took me a moment to catch on that she was wondering if this was his trigger. Worst day of your life giving you powers. I guess it must say something about Peter that he had been cracking jokes and fire puns until he passed out, and here was a medical professional assuming it was his worst day. I went with that assumption and shrugged. "Don't think so."

"Well." She glanced down. "Perhaps the PRT?" She tried quietly, like she expected it to be a touchy question.

I looked down as well and caught a slightly singed gold dragon staring up at me.

Oh.

Bao's scarf was sooty and burned straight through in some places. Tattered like it had waded through the Vietname War with bits of grass and dirt clinging to it. I brushed it off absently. "Maybe."

The ambulance sirens started up again in stereo, one and then the second. I slid off the back of the third and watched the doors close on the others.

"If the burn starts to revert in any way, pain, discoloration or even if it just looks funny, I would highly recommend going to the emergency room." The medic said sternly. "Burns are highly susceptible to infection."

"I'll get a check up," I lied. I wasn't in the mood for second guessing Amy's work. Not now anyway.

They started packing up as the other ambulances pulled away. I could hear one of the police have a one sided argument with Snake, shut down by simple, uncomplicated and ultimately unhelpful answers. For once, Snake being cryptic didn't bother me. There wasn't much ordinary law enforcement could do about Coil.

As I turned my head, I noticed a red streak approaching from the other end of the road, a fast-moving one. I watched, too tired to do more. The streak slowed down until Velocity, one of the Protectorate, arrived at a light jog. He took one look at the proceedings and began speaking into what I assumed was a radio. A shadow passed over me and I tiredly looked up to see a figure descend from the sky, and while that could have meant anyone, the sight of the shield being held in one hand as he came into a perfect 'three-point' landing confirmed that I had been watching Dauntless arrive.

I grudgingly gave him points for the showy touch down.

'And here come the heroes to save the day. Way too fucking late.'

"Too late," Dauntless said, as if he read my mind. He had a few trademark pieces of gear. His 'Arclance,' a spear he held in one hand that looked like it was made of white lightning. His shield was more of a buckler the size of a dinner plate but I had read that it projected a forcefield much larger than itself and his boots crackled with the same white energy. His costume was white and gold, heroic. His helmet was in the Greek style complete with a white Mohawk and nose band.

The heroes talked to each other briefly in low tones. Velocity zipped off to round the house. Dauntless looked around. I could see his frown from where I was. Most of his face was visible, but the helmet obscured the shape of it and the top half dominated by the golden metal.

He spotted me and walked over.

I expected him to pump me for information first, see if I knew anything. I honestly wasn't sure what I was going to tell him. Instead he took in my burned hoodie and bandaged arm thoughtfully.

"Are you alright?"

I mulled over the question. "I will be."

He accepted that with a nod. "What can you tell me? Our jurisdiction?"

The PRT were basically the handlers of the Protectorate, so it was safe to assume Dauntless and Velocity would be submitting reports on this. A paper trail. On the other hand, if Coil was trying to be subtle he failed miserably. I made a split second decision, "Amy was trying to get a bomb out of a girl."

I let tears come to my eyes and Dauntless winced.

"She make it?"

Let Coil think he's won. I refused to consider that he still might have. I looked right at him. "No."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said gently. "Do you know why she had an explosive in her?"

"Not by choice," I said a tad sharply. "I know that much. Amy is my friend, I was just here to…" Moral support? I faltered in my story and skittered a spider underneath the wheel of the ambulance. "She almost got it. Amy was hurt too."

Dauntless' face was completely blank. "Let me get this straight, someone is putting _bombs_ in people?"

"Yes."

He turned away abruptly. " _Christ_." He turned back around, composed. "Are there any other details you could give me?"

"Not much." I actually did regret having to say that. Dauntless seemed like a decent guy. "Sorry."

He didn't give me empty condolences or bland platitudes, which was to his credit I felt. Just a simple, "Our failure, then." He sighed heavily and cradled his chin with his empty hand. "Bombs…" He gave me a solemn nod. "Thank you for the help and I'm sorry."

Velocity blurred back into sight a few feet away and Dauntless nodded at me again, and headed over. Snake's police officer stomped over to them spitting nails. After a few tense moments talking with the heroes, he began to calm down.

More cars showed up eventually. PRT vans and squad vehicles. Firefighters in their trucks. Bomb specialists, I could tell from the logo on the side of the armored vans and the bulky clothing they wore. Slower, but in a cape city like Brockton Bay there was a fine line between 'fast response' and 'heading into a cape meat grinder.'

Behind me the ambulance pulled away. I inhaled and counted to ten. My Dad used that method sometimes in order to avoid blowing his top. I was hoping it would help me brace myself. I held it until I started getting light headed and let it all out in rush. I breathed in again.

Then I let go of my bugs.

For a moment, nothing happened and I almost laughed. Then I shuddered. Once. Twice. A creeping dread slithered up my spine and I saw the moment of the explosion again. One moment is all it takes and then you're gone. It wasn't anything like being in the dumpster, wondering, pleading if anyone was out there and if there was anyone that was going to _save me -_

It was watching someone else go through it, compressed into a blink of an eye and realizing I failed them.

I refused to break down. I sat there, shaking and feeling like I was going to vomit until the fear turned to anger. Snake wandered over to me. "Lung has to know." I said simply.

"I agree," Snake murmured placidly. She looked at me. "And then?"

I already knew the answer to that question.

 _"I'm going to find Coil."_

And nothing was going to stop me.

* * *

It was more than thirty minutes, less than an hour since the bomb went off.

I couldn't give a better estimate than that because time seemed to stretch immaterial into flash cards of events. I didn't think I would be able to remember all of it, not even most of it after the fact because it kept being overwritten by fire. I thought I hated Coil before. I was wrong.

A black reflective square was waved in front of my nose and I looked up. My chin bounced off the heel of my hand as Tony's car ricocheted off a pothole.

"Did you want to call your parents?" Kam didn't have her seat belt on as she held her phone out and that bothered me more than I cared to admit. The combination of that and the phone made my stomach rebel.

There was a reason that I, unlike other teens my age, wasn't surgically attached to a cellphone. Even if it would be convenient for work, Dad didn't have one either. When Mom died, it had been in a car accident. She'd been on her phone while driving.

I took the cellphone from Kam quickly. She flashed me a smile and turned back around in the front seat. We turned at an intersection. I watched a few cars pass by. When we had left, the police cordon had still been up extending into the road itself and blocking through traffic. Snake didn't drive, but Tony had his car in the garage and we had all piled in. Except Daisuke. He'd gotten directions and then faded from sight.

I had left my burned-through hoodie at the house, borrowing a sweater Kam said was Peter's. I kept my scarf on.

Tony had a King Cobra hoodie, another example of a less than obvious allegiance marker. Kam was wearing that like it was hers, 50/50 ownership. Maybe they were just good friends. At one time, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash at wearing something of Emma's, and I thought that, at one time, it had been like that for her too. Then again, Tony was a guy and Kam was a girl. Maybe I was being an idiot. I fumbled with the phone, reminding myself that I wasn't the one driving so it should be alright. The pit of my stomach was full of glowing embers as I tapped my home phone number in on the screen. It picked up on the second ring.

"Hebert speaking," Dad said.

"Hey, Dad," I croaked into the speaker.

"Taylor!" I heard a lot of shuffling and movement before his voice came through again, thick with worry. "What's going on, where are you? Everything alright?"

"Dad! Dad, I'm fine," I was not fine. "I just - Can you come to St. Johns Hospital?" I closed my eyes. "Please."

I heard his breath stop. "What happened?"

My hand clenched painfully on the phone. I didn't want to tell him but at the same time it was almost guaranteed to be on the news and he would be at the hospital anyway. "T -There was a bomb." I licked my lips. "It went off."

It had been inside someone and she almost hadn't made it.

"What?" Dad said weakly, like he couldn't believe it. "Taylor, I - I'll be there. Hang on."

"Okay." It came out small and I took a shuddering breath. He hung up first which was good, because if he had waited for me to do it, it would have taken a very long time. I sat in the back seat, listening to the beeping dial tone for the rest of the trip. I'm not sure why.

We parked in the car park next to the Emergency Room entrance, a little red Ford sandwiched between a rusting pickup truck and an SUV. I handed Kam back her phone.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

The parking garage was large and shadowed. Several ambulance vehicles were on standby with drivers either sitting inside them or pacing outside. One had a coffee and lit cigarette. Tony took point with quick, impatient steps. Snake was also fast on her feet, in spite of her limp, more determined than anything. It gave me the impression that it simply didn't matter if there were doors or not, she was going. Kam followed, tucking her phone back into the hoodie pocket and I trailed behind.

I felt self-conscious, like just being here was going to invite bad luck or bad news and as I approached the automatic doors, the urge to turn around and walk away itched. I beat it down. The doors separated with a hiss and I stepped past them before I lost my nerve.

The receptionist in hospital scrubs at the L-shaped front desk looked at us with pity. Peter and Amy were in patient rooms, but Lisa was still in critical condition. No estimate on when that would change, for better or worse.

"I will see Amy," Snake declared at the same time Kam started with, "Peter should…"

Kam paused but Snake had already begun walking off. "Right...okay then. We're splitting up?" She looked at me quizzically. I hesitated but the truth was, I was more emotionally invested in Amy than Peter right now. He would likely be up and about soon but Amy's hands had been in pretty bad shape and she couldn't heal herself.

"Yeah," I tried to be casual about it. "See you two later."

Amy's patient room was on the third floor on the other side of a closed walkway bridge that connected two of the hospital's campus buildings together across the main road. St. Johns hospital was built to fit the vision of what Brockton Bay used to be, just as much form as it was function with neatly decorated walls and a lot of windows looking out over the city. It was meant to look like a flourishing city's hospital but like everything else, a bit of the strain was starting to set in.

The doctors and nurses that bustled past us looked harried and in some cases, exhausted. Under-staffing was a major problem in both of our hospitals. Shortage of people with the education and training, shortage of people in general. Brockton Bay was the place to move out of, if you could.

I wasn't sure if it was this one, or the other, older hospital in another part of town that Amy volunteered at when she was still going by Panacea, but I was sure she was missed. On the other side of the bridge and past the fire doors, I started taking note of the numbers on the rooms but soon enough I didn't need to. Amy's voice came from down the hall and to the right and it was angry.

"For the _last_ time I am not ABB. I didn't join a gang and I never will. _Why_ do you keep thinking I did!?"

The answer I tentatively pegged as coming from her sister, Victoria because it sounded familiar. "You're always sneaking around, we don't hang out anymore, you're always with them and never tell me where and," Here a hurt tone slipped in. "When you get hurt I'm the _last_ one to know!"

"You, you, you, you," Amy pointed out acidly. "This isn't _about_ you."

"I'm your sister!" I stopped walking and ducked against the corner. I didn't want to walk into this. "Since when couldn't you tell me anything? What did I do?"

"Not about you! God!"

"Bullshit," Victoria pressed. "Is it..it's about mom isn't it? I didn't, you know I didn't mean it."

Amy didn't respond immediately.

"Th-that's it. Look, I was wrong -"

"You were right," Amy said, tired. "You were right."

Go out, I told myself. Interrupt now! My feet refused to move.

"We're a family," a third girl spoke up to play peacemaker. It sounded too young to be Photon Mom, so it had to be Crystal Pelham otherwise known as Laserdream. "We can figure this out, we can fix this together, alright? Yelling at each other, really fixes nothing."

"You saw her hands!" Victoria cried out. With it I felt a foreign spike of bone deep apprehension and fear. I felt like I was about to choke on it. "Is this going to happen every time she hangs around _you?"_ I heard an angry stomp as Victoria switched targets.

Amy's response was heated. "What the - Leave Daisuke out of this Vicky!"

 **"Why should I?"**

"Victoria!" I instinctively straightened at the very clear 'Mom' voice that came from further down the hall accompanied by furious stomping of shoes on tiles. Snake's telltale cane thud and walk followed more sedately. "Aura! Now!"

I hear what I think is Victoria leaving, with soft, guilty footsteps and the fear clawing at my throat fades before rather abruptly abandoning me. I sigh quietly and let the tension seep out.

"I'll follow her," Crystal volunteered. No footsteps this time but a slight passing of air.

"Thanks, Aunt Sarah," Amy said meekly. "I was...getting pretty angry there, actually angry."

Sarah Pelham, Lady Photon but more commonly called 'Photon Mom' on PHO had been another member of New Wave with an identical powerset as her daughter, Laserdream. Flight, projected shield and light blasts. The late Manpower had been her husband. It occurred to me then that everyone here except for Amy and Snake had an ability that let them get to places very quickly. They'd probably dropped everything just to check if Amy was okay once they got the news. It made me think of my own Dad, who was probably but hopefully not, breaking traffic laws to get here.

"I thought you were immune," Mrs. Pelham mused.

"Was," Amy said shortly. "Unintended side-effect of ...trying to fix something else. So not anymore."

"Should you be walking around?" Snake asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Amy brushed it off. "My hands, not my feet. I'm fine!"

"Mhmm," Snake hummed, not sounding like she agreed at all. "That is why you are on painkillers right now, of course."

Amy sputtered.

"I'm going to withhold judgement on you here, Daisuke was it?-" Sarah Pelham started.

"Thanks," he drawled.

"But what were you getting from Amy's room?"

Amy outright groaned. "Vicky was there, wasn't she?"

"Yup," he said. "Wasn't thrilled. I might have screamed 'need for bomb'."

" _No_ good deed goes unpunished, I swear." She huffed. I heard something creak, the sound squeaky wheels made but too tinny sounding to be a wheelchair."Healing bacteria."

"You have jars of bacteria under your bed," Mrs. Pelham said slowly, as if trying to come to terms with it. _"Under your bed?"_

"Projects," Amy said quickly, trying to deflect. "I made the one for insulin, you know about that, and everything is sterilized and they are safe - "

"I thought you kept those at the hospital, _in a lab,_ " her aunt stressed. "All of them are to help heal?" Amy was far too slow responding this time. "Amy."

"No."

Mrs. Pelham didn't sound like she wanted to know the answer but was making herself ask anyway. "Any of them lethal?"

"Two," Snake gave Amy away without remorse. "However, I have those."

"Third, maybe." Amy coughed.

"Ah," Snake said, disapproving.

 _"And_ ones that are _not_ lethal that you really shouldn't open anyway." The silence that followed was what awkward was made out of. "Am I grounded?" Amy asked.

It took Mrs. Pelham a moment, but she got it out.

 _"Definitely."_

I shuffled my feet backwards, one slow step at a time and tried not to make any noise. I didn't want to be caught eavesdropping and Amy didn't need me hanging around. We were friends, maybe but I didn't know that many personal details about her. And vice verse. I would just make things worse or at the very least, not help. And if she was walking around, possibly with a mobile IV bag on a stand, then she would be okay. I felt a little cowardly, like I was running away from a social situation out of my depth but my head won out.

I made my way back across the bridge hearing what sounded like Mrs. Pelham having an apoplectic fit and found the staircase. Peter was down a floor and there was no reason to wait for an elevator when I could take one flight of stairs. Unlike Amy, Peter was actually in his room but he also had a superhero guest. I stopped in the doorway and felt incredibly conspicuous. White and gold costume, Spartan helmet and buckler strapped to his forearm. Dauntless. Again.

My first paranoid thought was that we were followed but then I remembered he was also a flyer and heading to the nearest hospital, especially with suspected teenage parahumans involved was a bit of a no brainer.

"Sorry for interrupting!" I blurted out and got ready to bolt.

Peter smiled. He looked much better, less charred than the last time I saw him. Patches of his skin were still reddened but it was a vast improvement over burned through and waxy. He had an IV jammed in at the side of his wrist and wrappers from two burgers with a half finished third on a food tray in front of him.

"Nah, we were just about done."

Dauntless smiled wryly. "That's a no, then."

"I _got_ a team," Peter said and took a humongous bite of of his hamburger. He chewed hastily and swallowed what looked like a painful mass of food. "Support, resources, I have it already."

"Not getting involved with anything illegal?" Dauntless pointed out.

"Consider my tracks watched." The hero looked like he wanted to cuff the boy upside the head. "Seriously though, thanks but no thanks. You know what the best part of being an independent was? If I saw evil doing, I got to kick its ass. No ifs, ands, buts, ma'ams or sirs."

"I can see that," Dauntless said thoughtfully, wistfully. He leaned back in his chair. "You against the world?"

 _"Us."_ Peter said and grinned over at me, popping his head up. "ABB, we're like a family and all that good stuff. Nothing like a good bombing to pull people together. Right, Taylor?"

"You're _terrible."_ I laughed. The casual inclusion, that he seemed genuinely happy to see me improved my own mood.

That, and his bad joke just made the pieces click together on how I was going to get rid of Coil.


	14. Silkworm

**Silkworm**

* * *

Dad and I had made a bit of a scene in the front lobby of the hospital when he arrived. He was just shy of frantic with a desperate look in his eyes, disheveled clothes and car keys still in hand when he had hugged me. It had been the terrified kind of hug, where you feel like if you let them go, they'll sink into the ground right underneath your nose. I hugged back just as hard.

We had our problems. We weren't perfect. But even with all my screwups I knew he loved me and that was all that mattered in the end.

Things were going to get ugly soon, I felt. I was going to be prepared for it.

Dad cried, holding on to me.

I didn't.

We didn't say much to each other afterwards on the way home, but for once it wasn't because we were failing at talking to each other. Companionable silence was actually a thing and it wasn't bad having one with my father. No questions, no accusations. My scarf went uncommented on. It might have been because he didn't want to push me for details on nearly getting killed but it was nice.

I took the time to organize my thoughts. I needed more bugs, that was a given. Hiding them wouldn't be too difficult with the abandoned home close by, I just needed to be careful with moving them in large numbers. I could feel through them. Hear through them, see through them. And bugs were everywhere.

I said I was going to find Coil. I meant it.

Taking him down was probably something I couldn't do alone, not if he had access to more walking bombers and there were rumors on PHO about his private army. My costume could take a bit of punishment but stopping just one bullet had pretty much KO'd my hand. Bugs were the only thing I had. I wasn't particularly stealthy, or durable and was sorely lacking in information.

So I'd get help. And I'd get creative.

I cleaned up Bao's scarf best I could and put Peter's sweater in the wash after carefully checking the tags. The last thing I wanted to do was return it to him two sizes too small. I took a shower and put on some lounging around the house sweats. I tried to act normal, or as normal as I could get, pulling out a movie for us to watch. I then proceeded to burn the popcorn but at least it was still edible and giggled through Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

If it hadn't been for the 'check up' looks Dad sent me from time to time, it was almost like nothing had happened.

As the sun set, I retreated to my room and pulled out another set of clothes. I was aiming for a better impression this time or at least a more serious one. Green turtleneck shirt and khaki pants that hid how skinny my legs were and the pair of nice shoes that didn't give me blisters if I wore them for too long. I fished out the black under suit from my costume and put it on for 'just in case.' I didn't think I would need it, or hoped I wouldn't need it, but it was still night time in gang territory. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror to make sure none of the armored ridges were standing out under my clothes.

I wanted this to be given every ounce of attention it deserved. Sweat pants and a hoodie didn't do that. Maybe Snake got back from the hospital and was already giving a report, but maybe she wasn't. I wasn't going to be left out.

I hesitated over the question of 'mask or no mask' but in the end decided to leave it where it was. I didn't have any way to carry it on me unless I took my backpack and without the armor panels my black bodysuit wasn't particularly incriminating. The mask much less so. Were anonymous capes even allowed to approach Lung in the heart of her territory? Snake would vouch for me if she was there. Oni Lee knew 'Hachi' was associated with Lung but relying on him to identify me as friendly I was less than enthused about.

No, I joined as Taylor and got bombed as Taylor. Adding my cape identity now would just complicate things. I slung my scarf on and went back downstairs. Dad was pouring himself juice in the kitchen.

"I'm going out," I said clearly.

He turned around and his eyebrows jumped. "For a job interview?"

That was one way of putting it, I thought.

"I need to talk to some people about," I waved a hand in the air vaguely. "Today."

"That's the job for the police," Dad said like I knew he would.

"Or the Protectorate?" I accused as I tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of my voice. Too little, too late. "They've been handling the city real well until now, right?"

Dad's shoulders slumped. He searched for words. "Taylor…"

"My friends are going to be targets, Dad," My own shoulders hunched in response. They already were targets. "I need to do this." I hesitated and swallowed around the lump building in my throat. "Please."

"I love you, you know that, kiddo?" He said with a quirky little sad smile. "I'll make dinner."

"I'll eat it," I promised. The kitchen door swinging shut behind me, I headed for the Docks.

I was doing that a lot lately.

At night, Lisa's aptly named 'Dragon City' felt different.

The barricade of cars were right where they had always been, but as I approached, one of the car's headlights snapped on, glaring. I froze. Intellectually, I knew that without sunlight recognizing people got a bit difficult but I instantly felt unwelcome until the lights turned back off.

 _"Duibuqi!"_ A man's voice called from inside the car and I blinked spots from my eyes as I hurried past.

The streets were emptier to the point where I wondered if the 'unofficial' curfew for the outskirts was official here. Only a few people were out sweeping store fronts or smoking at street corners. Those I drew close to made a point of nodding at me for some reason, stopping everything. Lights were on within apartment homes making the sides of buildings look like they had bulbous symmetrical rows of eyes with faint sounds of conversation drifting from open windows.

It felt like I was walking through a whispering city, not yet asleep but shut in and cautious.

The dragon murals snaking up the side of buildings marking the end of the public center were dark shadows in the low light. I reached out to the insects around me. Moths, some cockroaches, chirping crickets and mosquitoes and used them to feel my way around. With them I followed familiar turns, sidewalks that I tasted before, roads with this particular pattern of nigh microscopic cracks and wafting smells in the air.

Like before with Snake, the sudden gap of insects after walking through a block of abandoned buildings told me I'd arrived.

The back door Snake had taken me through didn't have guards this time and the door itself was locked. I felt a trickle of trepidation and circled around the building.

It had a parking lot in front with the closed doors of what had once been a warehouse's garage for trucks. Expensive cars were parked there, imports and luxury in blacks, silvers and reds and at some point in time on the far side, a basketball hoop had been installed. A large group of youths were playing or watching others play.

Seeing faces I recognized as I walked closer was one massive shot of relief straight into my veins. Shinta, the one who went to my school with the dragon tattoo was there and dressed up in a nice sweater and jeans shouting from the sidelines with a bottle of water in his hands. Min was there too on the bench next to him with a knee drawn up under her chin and looking a bit uncomfortable. Her hair was done up in a bun that had waves of her hair spilling out of it.

Other kids that wore the dragon symbol were there.

There were a few unfamiliar youths with them, dress jackets off and sleeves rolled up as they fought over the basketball with the locals. There was one girl who was clearly someone's little princess in a very nice, form fitting pink dress and expensive looking purse on the sidelines, eyes darting from one boy to the other.

Bao stood out. Gone was the camo jacket and I couldn't say I missed it. He was wearing a red silk shirt with the golden button ties, much like I remember Lung wearing once, just in a masculine style with no sleeves and a white sash. His arms had sinuous tattoos on them, inked in such a way that made the muscles stand out. His face still had some bruising and the cut on his eyebrow was still scabbed over but the fact that he got those injuries defending me at school was one hell of an airbrush.

We had our matching scarves.

Stupid hormones.

He caught sight of me and called a frantic time out. I got a hold of myself as he jogged over with the ball, an uncertain smile already blooming on his face.

"Hey."

"Hey." I said awkwardly. I nodded my head at him. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh," he said and looked down at himself like he didn't realize he had gotten out of bed and put this stuff on. "Uh. Lung has guests? And their kids," he waved back at the group milling around. Some of them were flapping their shirts to cool off. "Entertaining them? We were going to head downtown after the game, got a reservation someplace."He eyed my blouse and smiled brilliantly. "Want to come with?"

I was no where near dressed well enough for that. I was staring at tailored suits, expensive purses, phones and wristwatches. Silk, cashmere and leather while I was in cotton and khaki. I didn't look like a shell shocked bum anymore but I was already going to stand out in the predominantly Asian crowd and had nothing to compensate for it. But more importantly I had something I really needed to do first.

"I'd like to, really I would, but I have to tell Lung something."

"I can tell her," Bao volunteered quickly.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry but this is really important."

He frowned. "How important?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "Did you hear about the explosion?" He nodded. "That was Snake's house."

At first his eyes widened, then his face just completely shut down. I don't mean shut down like the way my father shuts down, listless and lacking motivation. I mean shut down as in every trace of humanity briefly vanished. He was a statue and his eyes were cold.

It startled me.

"Attack on ABB," he said quietly. "Who?"

Amy, Peter, Snake and me," I said a bit shakily. My Bao came back as he looked over me with worry. "Amy got it," I put a hand on my upper arm where the healed over burn was.

Bao nodded once, sharply and turned his head. "Takeo!"

The Japanese member of Bao's group jogged over, blazer slung over his shoulder. He mock scowled at me. "Oh, you wear his scarf but not my handkerchief. I see how it is."

I grimaced in embarrassment.

"Hey, I need you to - " I heard Bao say before he dipped his voice below my range of hearing.

Takeo quickly sobered as he listened. "Ah." He drew out the 'a' sound like Lung had done once. He put on his blazer and straightened his collar and checked the tuck on his shirt. He eyed my clothes and nodded. "Okay. We go in. We _wait._ " He stressed. "People there are important and we don't want to offend."

A bubble of apprehension swelled in my gut. "What kind of guests does Lung have?"

"Some from other gangs out of town." Bao admitted uneasily. "The other side of ABB." His uncertain smile was back.

In the words of Yuka Kato, psychopaths, murderers, rapists and all of the above. A slight shiver went down my spine as I realized just what kind of 'Dragon's Lair' I was about to walk into but at the same time there was also the cold practicality of it. Terrible people, yes.

People I wouldn't mind aiming at Coil.

"I'm going." I said. Bao stopped me, and carefully unhooked my scarf and tossed it over his shoulder. He took of his better looking one and replaced it.

"Perfect," he smiled.

My face heated up and I started walking so he wouldn't see it turn red.

I followed Takeo to a third side of the building, double doors that he pushed open and revealed a corridor with the guards I was expecting. A burly man with cornrows frowned at us as he stepped in our way but Takeo reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief.

"We won't cause trouble," he said with his head bowed.

We were let pass.

"What does the dragon mean?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth as we walked.

"In our group, our rank is highest. We can say things and people listen. Lung picked us."

"And you can give that to someone else?"

Takeo glanced at me. "She didn't say no."

He opened the next set of doors and the bottom of my stomach dropped out.

I had watched those scenes in movies, spy movies were fond of it especially, about high class society and the gatherings they had with wine or champagne, tables of food and double edged words. Well dressed people with well done hair exchanging pleasantries, sipping champagnes with a knife or gun just within reach. That was what I was looking at with a little twist.

There were two tables with hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, cheese and chocolate fondue at the opposite sides of the room and round tables with seating by them leaving the center of the large room free for guests to mingle. White leather couches were arranged in L shapes to fit the corners with glass tables on crystal animal figurines in front of them. A white tiger, a red crane, a black turtle and blue dragon. Soft music was playing from somewhere in the back in smoky lighting and I knew without the shadow of a doubt that every single person in here had wallets and purses full of blood money.

There were a few insects in the room, moths up by the lights and sneaky mosquitoes and I immediately grabbed them all. What I was going to do with them unmasked I wasn't sure and the closed doors and windows cut down my options for getting more inside. Still, I took a more confident step and slipped into the moths to help get my bearings.

Lung was relatively nearby which should make the 'getting in, getting out' plan feasible.

I didn't get very far into the room before trouble found me.

We passed a small group of men and I got the wrong kind of attention. A man barked something at me and I took a step away in spite of myself. Gold capped some of his teeth and his suit was worn sloppily without a tie and an open collar showing leathery skin marked with the ink-stained edges of tattoos. He had a dog-headed lapel pin along with his buddies. Shapes poked through their jackets that I was sure marked guns. My pulse jumped.

Which was silly. Everyone in this room was dangerous.

"I - "

Takeo stepped in front of me smoothly and bent very low at the waist. He spoke quickly with a tense note. Covering for me, I thought.

The man ignored him, looking me over in a way that made my blood chill and images of Emma come to mind. He told the man at his right something, laughing and stepped forward.

"Do you not see the dragon on that scarf Akashi?" A woman's voice slithered, playful. "This one is _mine._ " It took me a few moments to pinpoint the woman's voice as actually belonging to Lung. It was softer but it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the implicit threat laced within it.

Everyone else caught it. The man's face morphed to a fearful scowl and he retreated. Takeo bowed lower, if that was even possible. _"Lung-sama! Moushi-!"_

She cut him off flatly and I think I heard 'Bao' in there. She was wearing an elaborate red dress decorated with, what else? A curling gold dragon, almost ceremonial while still allowing for freedom of movement. In the low light, the dragon mask was dark and angry, lighting up piecemeal like a moon going through its cycles every time her flame circled.

Takeo bowed again and gave me an unreadable glance before being dismissed to a dark corner.

I really wanted him to stay.

Lung put a hand on my shoulder. It was uncomfortably warm and was a very firm grip. I wasn't going anywhere she didn't want me to.

"You are interrupting." She said it like she was commenting on an unpleasant downturn in the weather.

"I know and I'm sorry, but it's important," spilled out of my mouth like I was trying to avoid getting grounded. I cringed after, biting my lip and tried not to look directly at her and instead scanned the room.

Concealed weapons, in some cases overt like brass knuckles or a sheathed knife, and just the general demeanor of the 'guests' made me feel like we were wading through a pit of vipers. Wearing my armored under suit might have just been the best decision I made in my life. Some of the eyes on us were greedy in more than one way, taking note of the gold dragon on my scarf and Lung's hand on my shoulder. Some dismissed me in favor of Lung herself, breaking off their conversations to nod in acknowledgment. Then there were those that were calculating and cold. I could see them factoring me in to whatever plans they had and my stomach sank.

A man stopped us by the tables, slicked back brown hair and charming smile with a small partially-masked Asian woman on his arm. He held out his hand for me to shake and I took it mechanically. He wasn't shy about letting me know he had a firm grip. He didn't give a name, but he also didn't ask for mine, which was no small relief.

I positioned a moth above his table. I didn't have enough insects to 'tag' everyone but surveillance? That I could do.

"You really should visit us in New York," he addressed Lung. Casual and friendly. They knew each other.

New York City was under the purview of Legend, one of the strongest capes in the world. Even under the Triumvirate, I guess a crime free city was a pipe dream.

"This city might implode without me," Lung responded dryly. "Give me a few months, hmm?"

He gave me another look. "Protege?"

Lung patted my shoulder. "Of a sort," she said noncommittally. "Excuse us for a few minutes?"

He let us go with a gentlemanly bow. I waited until I was sure we were out of earshot to repeat, "Of a sort?"

Lung gave an amused 'hn' sound. "Would you rather I said yes?" That led to an influx of panic and I was sure I was making a reasonable 'deer-in-headlights' impression given her little laugh. "Hachi, you would not want me to have said no."

Not comforting.

"For you to come to me like this," she thought out loud. "Coil."

"Yes." My stomach squirmed but I held my head high. I wasn't going to wait who knows how long for the official channels to deal with Coil. The number of villains with kill orders on their heads that were still walking around was depressing to think about, always has been and there was no doubt in my mind that Coil deserved one. I wasn't going to wait for it to be given the green light.

I wanted him gone.

"Tell me after," Lung ordered. "In the mean time, you will stand with my lieutenants and not interfere. Understand?"

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Oni Lee and Kali stood out in costume, surrounded by empty space that no one wanted to be in. I had a feeling that was the point.

Lee's body suit was pitch black this time much like the image of a Japanese ninja save for the belt stuffed with weapons. Grenades, pistols, knives. His mask was red and green, an angry warped face with tusk like teeth and thick, flame like eyebrows. Kali was almost casually dressed without her iconic slivers of metal-studded costume piece, instead wearing a business suit like quite a few of the other women present. Just her mask and a floating, spinning circle of needles at least a foot long as a backdrop.

Oni Lee watched me walk up silently as Kali snorted.

"What the fuck do you do?"

I floundered. Shit. I had not planned for this and it showed. "I control bugs?" It was as much a question as it was a statement. She was asking about my power wasn't she? I didn't just give myself away for no reason at all, right?

"Really." She was unimpressed.

"Bees, Black Widows, Brown Recluses, Scorpions," I countered acidly.

"Shit, you had me at bees." She had a harsh, barking laugh and I felt it was much like her. Harsh and barking. "Hate the fuckers."

"Allergic?" What was I doing? Stop needling the murderer, Hebert.

She gave me a look that might have been patronizingly amused but with the mask all I could see was the half displaying anguished despair. "Don't bet on me choking before I skewer you."

At some point, Oni Lee had stopped watching me and went back to watching Lung move around the room. Unsure of what else to do, I did the same.

It was like watching the workings of a decadent court.

The room was separated into groups but they were fluid. As I watched, I thought I could pick out reliably who knew who and what kind of relationship they had. Maybe. A lot of people just seemed very polite in speaking with one another and I wasn't sure if that was a cultural thing or just not wanting to cause trouble. The signs were mostly small things, emotions overflowing a little. Just enough to singe.

I wished Lisa was here.

I put my own observational skills, honed from months of watching my back and other students, to use. The most overt were that woman with the peacock fan on the east side and the man sitting at a south table pouring tea studiously ignoring each other and making it obvious they were doing it, 'incidentally' meeting each other's eyes then looking away.

"Rivals in the drug trade," Kali said. I glanced at her and she nodded towards the people I'd been watching. "That's going to get messy." She pointed out another, subtly with a tilt of her head. "Special guests from Korea, yeah? Triad pushed out by the CUI."

I clasped my hands together briefly, squeezing my fingers and making sure I wasn't shaking or giving myself away at all before letting them fall back my sides. They were among the best dressed. Impeccable suits, neatly pressed and expensive looking, bodyguards in the wings. Triad, okay. Cool.

 _God._

More people of interest for surveillance moths.

A sudden commotion at the back of the room jumpstarted my heart. The room quieted, which made the scuffle's volume grow. Men came in dragging a couple I guesstimated to be in their thirties. The woman was gagged and held back, the man was deposited into the suddenly clear center of the room. He staggered to his feet.

"Ibuchi Kazuo," Lung said in a loud, clear voice, grandstanding. She gave a little mocking bow. "Nice of you to join us."

Grins and smirks broke out in the crowd. I bit my tongue.

Ibuchi squared his shoulders and seemed to shut the rest of the room out, focusing in on Lung. He spoke in what I assumed was Japanese, sounded familiar, quick and militant.

"You stand accused of treason, Kazuo." she hissed in turn. "You remember Go." She pointed out a slightly heavy set young man that shrunk at the sudden attention. A pinprick of light flared into existence diagonal from his head, then faded. I remembered that name. "You thought he wouldn't notice, hmm? That I wouldn't notice." Smoke literally curled from the mouth of the dragon mask. _"No one steals from me."_

It struck me then like a bolt of lightning. She was going to kill him.

Ibuchi blanched. His face turned a pasty, blotchy white and his eyes darted around the room. The woman started crying around the gag cloth, tears running down her ruddy cheeks but he didn't look at her.

Lung took a measured step forward. "Tell me why. Tell me you did it for a reason other than _money?"_

He tried. Even if I couldn't understand a single word he was saying, the stuttering, stopping and eventual defeated silence told me everything I needed to know.

Lung was quiet for a moment. "...I see."

In a burst of movement fueled by desperation, Ibuchi lunged at the nearest gang member, grappling him for the gun hooked in the man's belt. He pulled it free, the gang member let him with hands held up in grinning surrender. He aimed it at Lung who let out a disbelieving, _"Shenme?"_

She tilted her head and chuckled. "What do you think that will do," She spread her arms out wide. "To _me?_ " Despite her words, I could see that she was a little taller than before, anticipating it.

He shifted the gun as he swallowed hard. He aimed it wildly, at anyone who looked like they were too close. I followed the pistol with more than my own eyes. Jam the barrel? I thought briefly. Moths were fragile, didn't have enough for that. I had a handful of biters and being peppered with mosquitos wasn't going to get a desperate man to lay down his weapon.

Think, think.

Moths over his eyes?

"Don't be stupid," Kali murmured, under her breath. "Don't fucking shoot."

He pointed the gun back at Lung and backed up a step. Then his aim slid to her right. Finding myself staring down the barrel of a pistol as he spat in Japanese, I felt a lot of my sympathy for him fade away. My face was unprotected. I didn't even tense, right at that point of tired, stunned terror that I just couldn't react to anything.

Kali's metal stopped moving, vibrating with tension to the point they _sang_. Oni Lee stared, silent.

"Ah," Lung said. "That was a mistake."

Ibuchi snarled, a trapped animal. The gun went off.

I flinched and felt warm, wet splatter on my face. There was a discordant clang, short and sharp. I pried my eyes open. Kali's metal needles floated around me like a cocoon, wary. The second gun shot was slightly muffled in Lung's chest cavity, close range but it was already too late. A flaming hand clamped onto Ibuchi's throat and he immediately began to scream. They stayed like that, locked in what could be a dance, Lung's other hand gripping the pistol on top of Ibuchi's fingers. The captive woman was crying hard, straining against the men holding her back, yelling what might have been 'Kazuo.'

I could tell when the flames got through the skin because Ibuchi's voice died. The sounds he made were rasping gurgles but he continued screaming.

Lung let him drop. He curled on the floor, hands going up to his throat, shaking and pulling back before touching anything. The burn was almost neat, a circle into the vocal chords. Ibuchi rattled and I realized he was suffocating.

No one moved to help him.

I took one step forward. The metal moved with me, guarding. Lung scoffed as she dismissed her victim, a wet 'hn' that told of the bullet she had lodged in her lungs somewhere. Her right shoulder was torn messily. There was warm blood on my face.

That was the only step I took.

I clutched at my scarf and its glinting gold dragon. I stood there in sick, terrified gratitude.

I watched Ibuchi die.

* * *

I would like to think that I didn't know what to think as I heard his rattling attempts to breathe strain, then slow and stop. I was still standing there with red fabric in my fingers and a step closer to Lung than I wanted to be. I had fled myself a bit and could vaguely see the rest of the room from differing viewpoints like I had security cameras stuffed in my head. Some people were grimacing, others were placid. The man with slicked-back hair and the masked woman had a curious little smile.

Takeo looked grim. In the entire room, there was very little sympathy.

It wasn't a conscious action, maybe my control had slipped, but one of the larger moths, gray with dark eye spots on its wings, fluttered down and settled on Ibuchi's forehead.

I knew he was gone when I shifted my attention to the moth. Blood vessels on the head were close to the surface and as light as their footprints were, insects could feel a pulse through them. No movement. It had landed on a dead thing.

I knew exactly what to think. This shouldn't have happened.

I didn't know him. I didn't like him. He had shot at me. Bile crept up the back of my throat when I realized I was on the path to rationalizing this away. I felt like I was warring between abject disgust, moral outrage and my own selfish relief that the bullet hadn't found its target. Everything positive about the ABB that I felt, everything I believed withered in shame.

This was what it was at its core, wasn't it? I was an idiot.

Lung shifted and a mosquito resting on a man's shirt collar picked out her bright colors and the dark contrast of her masked face. She noticed the moth. She took purposeful steps forward, away from me and towards the captive woman.

"Himiko," she purred. "Did you know of this?"

The woman shook her head frantically, hard enough to shake strands of hair loose and tears were still damp on her cheeks.

Lung let out a light, airy laugh and turned to me. "Believe her?"

"Yes," I said immediately. My voice came out hard. This was just like the first night I had met her, giving me the chance to decide someone else's fate. Then I had been mostly confused. Now there were connotations to it I dreaded.

Lung waited and I realized what she wanted with a sinking feeling. There were dozens of eyes on me. "He wasn't surprised," I continued and it was true. Himiko had been frantic, confused and had to be restrained, likely she resisted but Ibuchi didn't even look at her for comfort or reassurance or anything. "She was."

"She has her own crimes," Lung commented idly. "But betraying me on the orders of another, not like you, Himiko." Lung reached out and the woman flung herself as far back as she could. Not far enough. The men held her still. Lung traced parts of Himiko's face like her fingertips were kisses. "Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. Pick one."

Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. I had heard that before from my former best friend, Emma, tracing her face dully as she told me what had happened to her over a year ago. Recently, I realized. Was this why I didn't want to confront Lung with it? Because I was afraid that it was not only true, but that Lung herself was responsible?

Himiko shakily held out her hand, fingers splayed and Lung nodded. "Something small," she told the men holding the woman. And then just before they dragged her out, "And Himiko. Next time, I choose."

And just like that, the fun was over.

In the wake of it all, conversation started to pick up again. This was something these people had seen many times, maybe even did it themselves wherever they came from, and it was nothing special. There was too much noise for me to pick up any individual conversations. Everything was a mass of painful vibrations and it was too much to hope for that anyone would be condemning Lung for it.

The dragon masked woman herself glided over the hardwood floor back towards me, pausing slightly by Ibuchi's body. I let the dark eye spots on the moth's wings stare at her. I was struck by the morbid thought then that burn wounds didn't bleed and so wouldn't ruin her floor. "Akashi," she called. "Remove this."

The man with the dog headed lapel pin scowled nastily, but he moved to obey. The moth's natural instincts carried it up to the ceiling when its perch was moved. Lung snagged a napkin from one of the tables and spat into it. A bloody glob and a bullet. Her shoulder was healing over steadily, visibly knitting together underneath the gash in her dress.

She fingered the tear in the silk and sighed in disappointment. "Something is always happening to my clothes," she groused. She glanced around the room and crumpled the napkin in her hand. She picked up another. "Walk with me."

A familiar command. _I did not want to._ She slowed in her approach of the far doors, looking over her shoulder at me. My moths and bugs around the room had the unnerving effect of making me feel paranoid. I was looking at everyone as best I could through multifaceted eyes and in turn, there was always someone looking at 'me.' I felt trapped.

I took slow steps after her.

Guards opened the doors for us to reveal the straight back corridor I had been in before. I grabbed every bug I could sense in the building, not enough, and moved them through the ventilation, the pipes and gaps in the walls. I didn't have any plans for what to do with them yet but just having them lessened a tiny bit of my anxiety. If push came to shove, I had some ideas. Getting past the outer defense of fire would be an issue, but once there suffocation was an ironic possibility.

I didn't like thinking like that.

Lung still had the metal spike holding up her hair and in spite of everything else, still barefoot. "You handled yourself well," she said. It was not what I wanted to hear. She held out the extra napkin. "Your face?"

Shit.

I grabbed it refusing to feel thankful and wiped my face of her blood the best I could without a mirror. I carefully didn't think about what I must have looked like back there in the room with all of the other drug lords and gang leaders. I had honestly forgotten about the blood on my face, how fucked up was that?

"What was that about?" I asked harshly. Like her, I crumpled my napkin in my palm. "What the fuck was that?"

"Himiko is a weasel," Lung replied mildly as we walked. "Chafing under rules. And Kazuo," she gave me a short look. In the small openings in her mask, I could see her brown eyes and the whites around the irises were replaced with angry red. Her voice was even. "Fools and traitors. I tolerate neither."

"You didn't have to kill him," I replied, letting heat leak into my reply.

Lung patted me on the head. I was too angry to flinch away. "You are correct. I did not have to."

"Then _why?"_

She didn't answer immediately because we had reached our destination. She pushed open the dark wood door and inside was a personal room, like the office I had first met her in the last time I was in the Dragon's Lair.

The rice paper mats covered the wood flooring and a large pair of windows on the far wall. This part of the warehouse building expanded a little further than I thought it did as there was a narrow walkway passing in front of those windows but behind the sliding rice paper doors and walls in front of them. The right side of the room was dominated by an inked black and white painting of a large tree in bloom. The petals on the wind stood out, colored a light purple.

Like the office, this room had a low table with cushions but this time was only set for two. Candles lit in the corners had severely melted down wax. There were others rooms joining this one behind closed doors. Was this where Lung lived?

The door swung shut behind me and Lung finally answered the question.

"Fear."

I opened my mouth angrily but she disappeared behind a door and I wasn't about to follow her around the place. I gritted my teeth.

I wasn't trying to start a fight no matter how I felt because that would be the epitome of moronic but I was not feeling charitable right now. That and a little desperate. What was I going to do? There was still the option of going to the Protectorate. If I could find where Coil's base of operations was with my bugs or otherwise then maybe the heroes could just hit him hard where it hurt.

Then it was just a matter of whack-a-mole every time he popped up and flushing him out of any hiding spaces.

The PRT being compromised made up a large part of my reticence but I could get Miss Militia, and Dauntless seemed like he could be open to an independent op. The guy was rumored to be on the fast track to being considered one of the strongest capes in the world because of his ability to add power to objects like his spear. If we could cut the head off the snake, or at least severely inconvenience it…

I really hoped Lisa would be okay. It was a terrible thing to think, but I could really use information right now.

Lung resurfaced after several minutes in another outfit, a dress like robe with the sash around her waist. Black this time, silver flowers.

"Fear?" I accused.

"Sit," she invited me as she settled down on a cushion. When I didn't move, she repeated herself with a guttural undertone. _**"Sit."**_

I wasn't suicidal. I sat.

"What do you think of fear?" She asked and laid her palms on the table. "What use is it?"

"It turns people against you," I spat. "It only lasts until they aren't afraid anymore." It was strange saying this. I feared Emma once. "It can be fought against."

"Like the fear of a rabid dog," Lung said. "It barks and snarls but you don't know when it will bite. It breeds anger and resentment. If you have support, the fear breaks, yes. It's a common fear. Fear of the unknown leaves the possibility of what if?"

Suddenly, her flames roared to life and leapt for me. I choked, scrambling backwards and called upon every goddamn insect I had. Before they could even make headway, the flames winked out.

"The fear of fire is different," Lung said softly. "It's primal, instinctive. You know fire will burn you each and every time. That first night I saw you, did you fear me?"

We both knew the answer to that question. I didn't say it.

"There is no 'what if.' I have fought to ensure those here have that fear of me. Kazuo hid his actions with a desperate paranoia and you could see it, once before me he _knew_. There is only what _will_ happen and once touched by that fear," her customary single flame turned blue. "It never leaves you."

"Then why bother?" I asked. "With the patrols and the other kids and the city, why bother doing anything positive at all?"

Lung leaned back. "Fear is only half of the equation. It's a disease that breeds and diseases erode. Loyalty is a merciless thing. For every person in ABB kept in line by fear, there are two or three that have ABB to thank. Fear can be fought against, you said." She spread her hands. "Why would they want to?"

"Was anything you told me about adding good true?" I said bitterly, betrayed. I felt like the most gullible idiot in the world.

"I bear a responsibility," Lung said. "To those I displaced. But if you are asking if I lied about my motives, then yes." She admitted baldly. "I did. Does it change what I accomplished?"

"Yes, damn it!"

I had the feeling she was smiling indulgently at me. "How?"

"It's all fake!" Like the Boardwalk with its pretty trappings and the sign on the ferry booth promising 'soon' when the mayor himself had no intention of ever letting it run again and the school saying they would keep an eye out for bullying. I hated lies. "It doesn't mean anything to you at all!"

"It's real to them," Lung said. That almost blew the wind out of my sails. I could try to turn to the more decent members of ABB, Min or Bao or Peter, but they each had their own reasons for being part of this gang, didn't they? Fear wasn't it. If I was going to strike out on my own, it was going to _be_ on my own.

This was...this was fucked up.

"Speaking of loyalty," she mused. "Where is Snake?"

"Last I saw, with Amy," I responded sullenly. Lung didn't know it, but just like that my determination had come roaring back. Amy wasn't ABB for this very reason and if Snake didn't even check in then maybe there really was something to the 'adoption' I'd heard about. I didn't _need_ ABB.

Lung hummed. "What happened?"

I briefly entertained the thought of not telling her, but that was petty. I'd been prepared to point terrible people at Coil before. This one just happened to turn into a dragon. "There was a girl we were helping. Coil was keeping her working for him under threat of death. Implanted bombs. Turns out, Coil wanted her to come to us. He detonated the girl while she was standing by Amy and Peter." I said it all quickly and in monotone, determined not to get caught up in my roiling feelings right now.

Lung was quiet for a long time. I waited, unsure. Eventually, she spoke.

"The actions of a dead man." She seethed and up close I could see her nails sharpening. "I have been too lenient, allowing slights like this. No more." She stood up and walked to the double windows past the walkway. I could hear her just breathe for a few moments. "I understand what Snake saw. I don't have your loyalty," she noted.

 _No, you don't._

"However, you told me that Coil is not someone you want in your city."

"That isn't my price," I said sharply.

Lung looked back at me impassively. "Of course not," she agreed. "You live on the docks."

My stomach threatened to reject its contents as I considered what that might mean. My thoughts drifted from my fledgling friendships at school to the fact that ABB knew about Danny Hebert.

"Your point?"

"No point," Lung said casually. "Just an observation." I almost laughed at how insincere that was. I probably would have if I didn't feel like a trapped animal, the rabid dog Lung was taming. Barking and snarling but if, when, I was going to bite? I didn't know. "It is time for this city," she gestured expansively. "To become **my** city. It would be best if you cooperate as I am genuinely a little fond of you."

I eyed her warily. "What are you saying?"

"You wear Bao's scarf, I see," she said like a blade on silk. "I will see Parian makes you a few." Parian. Another reminder of how bad Lung's gang could be. "In the mean time, it's best we return to the others, hmm? "I expect to see you at dinner." She drifted clawed fingers through my hair as she walked past me and I sat there frozen, reeling. I was being drafted. "Welcome to the ABB, Hachi."

I could hear her smile.

"Enjoy the party."


	15. Caterpillar

_Caterpillar_

* * *

"I already have dinner plans," I protested weakly to uncaring air. The door finished swinging shut and I was left alone. I was still feeling that hot anger but it was muted by confusion. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be feeling right now. On one hand, I had gotten the support from Lung that I wanted in going after Coil. Mission accomplished.

On the other, this was very much not as planned.

I got up from my seat and felt the tingling in my legs of blood rushing back down. I hunted around for the bathroom while trying to avoid going into any room that wasn't a bathroom or knocking tiny bonsai trees over. One of them was a charred husk. I guess it was a safer anger target than the rice paper walls.

I found it after a while and it was at least twice the size of the one I had at home. I checked my face in the mirror and washed off errant smudges of dull red. I paused afterwards and just looked at myself.

The girl in the mirror looked hard and disapproving. I had my lips pressed together which didn't make them seem as wide. I was pale with stress, my eyes fierce and expression flat. My scarf was askew. I straightened it absently. That was what Hachi looked like, I thought. I kept the face as I turned to the door and made my way out of the room. The people out there were bullies, that's all they were. And I knew how to deal with bullies.

Don't let them get to you. Don't show weakness. Don't let them win.

I hesitated right outside of the room. There was no one around, most likely because this was Lung's personal space. I knew there was the door that led straight out of the building. I could make my way to it, see if it was locked from the inside as well. I could still escape. For now. I'd pay for it, most likely.

Dad would pay for it.

I backtracked through the back corridor, borrowing the senses of a confused and sleepy ant to make sure I was headed in the right direction of the main hall. The guards in front of the door to the main room straightened a little when I approached. There was curiosity there.

I brushed past them and flung the door open. A sudden flurry of moths rushing to escape being crushed by the door announced my arrival. The hell? That was when I remembered that I had called on everything in my range when Lung had pulled her fire trick. The moths had been stuck behind the doors. Oops.

I cringed inside and tried to subtly place them back where they had been surveying the room as I slunk into the room. Today was nothing but one bad thing after another.

I ducked under gazes and headed for the right side table with food piled on it. The last thing I wanted was for a drug lord to try to draw me into a conversation and if I had food in my mouth, I had a legitimate excuse to say nothing.

Manners.

The food on the table fell into three categories: foreign, expensive or both. The presentation was absolutely insane. Sauces in swirling patterns, seared food in artful scorched lines, flower cuts of vegetables, it was the kind of spectacle I felt like I should be taking pictures of, not eating. I grabbed a small plate and hesitantly began picking out the less extravagant looking food, like this transparent roll on a stick with shrimp and what smelled like mint leaves inside. I was not touching the fish eggs or what looked like squares of bloody fish on a toothpick.

I did snag a piece of melon though. I'd always liked melon.

"Yubari melon," Takeo said. I'd seen him hesitating on the approach with a moth and so didn't jump.

"Good?"

"Expensive," he said. He eyed some of the items on the table enviously. "Very."

I took a deliberate bite out of it. It was...really good. It was juicy with just the right amount of sweetness and a bit of what was almost spicy and just about turned me in a melon connoisseur on the spot. "So good." I took another bite, completely forgetting about the rolls on my plate.

Takeo grabbed a piece carefully and looked around like he expected someone to stop him. He bit into his greedily. "So you know Lung?" He had to snatch for a napkin when juice dribbled from his chin.

"Thought I did," I said. That was the most diplomatic answer I was capable of giving at this point. And going into a rant about her, here, didn't seem like the greatest idea. "Don't you?"

He tried to shrug casually while still holding on to his slice of melon like it was gold. "I see her sometimes. Bao knows her best though."

I hid my grimace behind finishing off my melon. My tongue ached for another piece but I held it back but raising a melon juice drenched shrimp roll to my mouth. Bao knows her best. I rolled that around in my head. I couldn't see it, not really, not when he was genuine with his heart on his sleeve and Lung was Lung. Maybe they bought the same lies that had been fed to me.

It was a sobering thought considering that it might just be my crush talking.

Or she had something on him and he was just doing the best he knew how.

Like what she had on me. I told my Dad I'd have dinner with him and instead I was here, eating food we could never afford in several lifetimes because someone Dad hated told me to stick around.

I hated this. She didn't say it outright. I was unharmed. And I still felt like I had been roughed up and blackmailed.

"You've seen Lung kill people." I said eventually. It was mint in the roll. The mixture of flavors, melon juice, mint, fresh shrimp and the light taste of the transparent wrapping burst on my tongue. It wasn't robbing a bank or threatening an unarmed person but for moronic reasons, I was feeling guilty enjoying the food. "Haven't you?"

Takeo glanced at me out the corner of his eye. "He deserved it," he brushed it off. "What did he think would happen?"

" _Murdering_ people is wrong," I gritted out.

He gave me this patient look. "People like him who know what would happen, but did it anyway? Stupid. Don't waste effort, they won't learn and take away from everything else."

A lot of the people here had tattoos, I found myself thinking, almost idly as I finished off my roll. The Triad, a great many of the ABB members here, others. Takeo. Bao. _These were the people I was associating with._ "It's worth the effort," I said. I felt light-headed. "Excuse me."

"Bao asked me to watch over you," he said sternly, reaching out with his hand. I backed out of his reach.

 _"_ _Don't."_

I hurried down the table. He didn't follow.

An array of translucent slices of fish arranged in a blooming petal near the end of the table caught my attention. It was strangely pretty and also because the New York man was by it, eyeing the dish with a delighted smile. He caught sight of me and his smile widened like he wanted to share a good joke and had been dying for an audience.

"Mind doing me a favor?" He stage whispered and held up his plate. He pinched a slice of the fish between chopsticks and gestured with it. The slice of fish flopped around. "Have some tessa with me?"

I stared. "What? Why?"

"Because it's no fun without a partner and Maya," he looked around for his masked partner. "She's gone somewhere. No matter. I eat one, you eat one?"

I hesitated at the bizarre offer. "I don't even know who you are." I instantly regretted that sentence the moment it came out of my mouth. I'd just narrowly avoided having to introduce myself to this man earlier and now I was basically asking for it.

His eyebrows rose. I noticed he had a diamond stud in his left ear and his goatee was neatly trimmed. "Lung didn't mention me? I'm hurt."

I scrambled for something to say that didn't blow the thin disguise as Lung's 'sort of' student and made a wild guess. "How many minions do you share life stories with?"

"Minions?" He chuckled, the small smile on his face growing slightly as he repeated the word, as if tasting it, "Minions...nope, doesn't really fit."

The way he seemed to find it hilarious meant the groan that leaked out of my throat wasn't that big of a surprise.

"Minions are for villains, my dear. I am a criminal." He explained as if it was a major difference.

"There's a difference?" I almost regretted not trying to at least cover the lower part of my face with my scarf.

"Oh, a large one." His grin was firmly in place now, "Villains have powers. They smash open vaults and enthrall crowds because they have powers. Anyone who serves them is a minion, unwanted, except as a distraction."

He drew closer, "I am a criminal, that means that everyone who works for me is valuable in some small way and everything I gained is from my own skills and knowledge. Take a look at the room."

I cast a glance out at the room, and the man spoke up again, "How many have powers here? Criminals do not associate with Villains. We're snobs like that; what can a Villain do with their powers that connections, money and some well-timed violence can't do better?"

"What about Lung?" I asked the obvious question.

He chuckled. "Ask her how well the smash and grab, flashy hero baiting routine worked out for her once upon a time, eh? Criminal through and through, kid, I should know. Just happens to be able to set people on fire."

"How would you know?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.

"Let's just say I taught her a few things and leave it at that." The man replied with an easy shrug, "I like teaching people new things, and giving them new experiences." Before I had the time to fully formulate the thought 'drug pusher' he continued speaking. "Like this, for instance."

He plopped the slice of translucent fish on my plate, "Try this, it's an old Japanese delicacy, I think you'll like it."

I carefully hefted my plate and gingerly rolled up the slice of fish and speared it with the leftover stick from the shrimp roll before glancing uneasily at the man. He nodded encouragingly.

Inhaling briefly, I popped it into my mouth and chewed, feeling a peppery heat that mixed with the light, moist fish.

I didn't stop myself from making a pleased noise as I smiled, "This is good. Tessa?" I tried.

"Also known as fugu, or as people would know it here, poison blowfish." I felt the blood drain from my face as the man kept his smile, "It has to be prepared by expert chefs, but these days who knows if the ones on staff got it right, so it's probably all deadly."

My blood turned to ice even as my throat burned from the peppery heat of what had to be the poison. I'm dead. I should've run for it and taken my chances.

Dinner has killed me.

Just as I was about to consider doing something incredibly stupid and suicidal with what little time I had left, I heard laughter.

The man was cracking up, laughing uproariously as he shook his head, "Gets them every time." He pulled out a small shaker that I instantly recognised, "A little pepper, that's all."

I didn't even try to stop my arm from coming up in an uppercut aimed squarely at his gut. I wasn't a fighter, but I knew enough to know just what would happen. And despite being a lanky scarecrow, I felt a smirk flicker on my face as my punch drove the breath from his lungs and he sank to his knees for a moment, still laughing slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Asshole," I spat.

That got attention and through my moths I could see Lung palm her masked face for a moment and excuse herself from the group she had been talking to. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" she murmured when she reached us.

I wasn't entirely sure who she was addressing with that, because the man snickered and brushed off his suit jacket, "Good to see you haven't gotten boring, now."

"He deserved it," I defended myself. I had just hit a crime lord at Lung's party. Stupid? Very. But I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it after the fact and from the way Lung sighed, I had the feeling that I was going to get away with it. I had a brief moment of feeling vindicated and then a much longer time of realizing I was just digging myself a deeper hole.

"What did he do?"

"Made me think I was dying from bad blowfish," I spat.

She sighed. "Really, Cho?"

"What?" He grinned up at Lung irreverently. "I'm sure you remember pulling that shit on me, eh? Passing it on."

She snorted and took my plate from me, setting it on the table. "I think you'd be better served among more civilised company."

Like not here? I thought.

Perhaps it showed on my face, I hoped not, because Lung qualified her last statement. "At least, they can pretend at being civil."

I was there for another hour, shaking hands with 'civil' murderers, exchanging pleasantries with drug pushers and weapon traffickers. I learned how to say 'hello' in Chinese from one of the Triad members, the one with his head shaved, a gun in his belt and a triangle tattoo on the side of his neck. He praised me on my pronunciation.

Lung kept me at her side the entire time, with her hand on my shoulder.

Later that night, I trudged up the two steps to the kitchen door with my feet aching. I made the decision to try to sneak in. It was late and Dad liked to go to bed early when he could. I opened the door quietly but once I was inside I noticed the living room light was on. With a heavy heart, I walked in.

"Taylor," Dad breathed. He stood up from the couch. The phone tumbled off his lap onto the floor. His clothes were disheveled and he looked like he had aged a few years as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I...how did it go…?" His voice was thick and he blinked his eyes behind his glasses. "You're alright?"

"Yeah, Dad." I said, tired. "I'm alright. Dinner in the fridge?"

"Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah."

Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes but I refused to let them fall, to let him see them. I smiled instead. "I'm starving," I lied.

Sunday morning, I came back from my jog to see an unfamiliar pickup truck on the curb in front of my house with a large covered rectangular box in the back. Noriko was leaning against the driver's side door flipping an envelope between her fingers, front to back. Back to front. I jogged up to her feeling my blood turn to ice.

"What are you doing here?"

The envelope made a papery thwip sound as she flipped it back the right way around and held it out to me. "Delivery."

I snatched it from her and tore into the cream colored envelope to the card within. There was a the inked rendition of a charcoal drawing on the front of a firefly, its lit up abdomen colored in fiery colors. I opened it. The letter inside was written in the same format as the little 'game' I played with Lung Friday night. I had a robbery to stop and fifteen butterflies.

' _You have a city to protect,_ ' the swirling letters wrote. _'_ _And you have 53 Asian giant hornets.'_

 _'_ _Surprise me.'_

It was signed with blocky Chinese characters but I knew what they spelled out. I rushed to the back of the truck and grabbed hold of a corner of the canvas covering the box. I tugged, hard, and it came off. I already knew what I would find. I could feel them.

It was just as the note said. Fifty-three giant hornets, among them a single queen.

"You like?" Noriko asked. She was watching me closely.

I looked up, first at her, then at my reflection in the truck's rear-view mirror.

My grin was feral and toothy.

"Yes," I said. "I like."

* * *

I huffed and puffed as the thick container landed with a heavy thump. I could feel it sink into the soft soil of my small backyard. Originally, I wanted it closer to the house but with how the siding stuck out over the concrete of the foundation, getting it any closer would have meant squishing my hand. Not to mention, the temporary habitat for my asian giant hornets was really heavy.

"You okay?" Noriko asked, leaning on the see through panels. Her presence was agitating the hornets inside. I kept a tight hold on them so they didn't end up hurting themselves trying to get at her.

I honestly wasn't sure if I could let them free in any situation except when I needed them. When I was making my costume, the black widows I'd gathered kept weaving while I slept and thinking back, keeping a mass of territorial venomous spiders in the basement while sleeping wasn't a comfortable idea. It was still a different enough situation that I was even more hesitant to keep fifty three territorial three inch long hornets in the basement while I was sleeping.

I was drawing a blank on how to test the limits of my unconscious control on the hornets safely.

"Heavy," I gasped. I thought I might have pulled a muscle in my back. I tried to stretch it out but if anything that made the aching pinching hurt even worse.

A gently amused look spread over her face like she was watching a kitten struggle over a ball of yarn. I pouted and she laughed.

She was dressed much like she was the last time I saw her, with nice clothes that said she had a modest clothes budget but the style of it was down-to-earth. It was the exact opposite of Lung's flashy, or the formality of the guests at the party last night and it was like a very small splash of reality.

Most of the people involved were normal, everyday people muddling through life like the rest of us.

Noriko looked around. "Where's Danny?"

Just like that a lot of my goodwill was locked behind a wall. "Out," I said icily. "Why?"

"Just wondering?" She said quickly, taken aback. Her eyebrows raised and she glanced between the hornets and me, then to the house and back. "Touchy subject," she muttered.

I felt bad for snapping at her. "Do you know him?"

"I know _of_ him more," she said easily. Her lips curled up into a secretive smile as she slipped her hands into her jacket pockets. "Helped me with my car once, actually."

"Really?" I was surprised although I shouldn't have been. Dad really tried giving people on the Docks an alternative and sometimes he even managed to pull it off with a lucky job offer or his ability to pull people together for projects. The problem was he couldn't keep that up indefinitely and as time went by, more and more opportunities dried up.

Of course, thinking about my father opened the way to thinking about how the hell I was going to hide my hornets. He wouldn't notice it at the back of house, not immediately but after that? I was going to have to get creative.

I wished I had a secret lair.

"Battery died," she said and rolled her eyes. "And what do I know about cars?"

"If you know how to drive one, automatically know more than me," I quipped lightly. The corner of Noriko's lip curled up teasingly.

"That right?"

"Sadly."

Noriko was less brusque today, I noted. It was possible that she was just in a good mood for one reason or another, but giving the benefit of a doubt had backfired on me once before.

I made a show of looking Noriko over and smiled thinly. "So what else did Lung want you to do?"

Caught, she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and smiled weakly. "There was something about scarves?"

I stopped and grimaced. I had honestly forgotten about that. Wishful thinking on my part that Lung would as well.

Much to my irritation, the gratitude was still there. I thought getting a good night's sleep would help put things into perspective and give me a clear direction but if anything it just seemed to get that much more complicated. Not even the run had helped. It was like I was dealing with Emma all over again, confused and betrayed and wishing things went back to the way they were. Except this time around, she went back to her normal, affable self and I just had the memory of something rotten underneath.

Getting rid of an ally in taking down Coil was stupid and even if I did manage to pull it off somehow, ABB would likely splinter and the E88 would remain intact. It was a sobering feeling realizing exactly how fragile the status quo in my city was.

"Scarf. Right." I said, trying to cover up for the time I spent in my head. "Think I should play along?"

"You're asking what I would do?" She asked with no small amount of surprise.

"Am I missing something?" I accused, looking her in the eye. "This is just another power play, isn't it. Sending you here," I swept my hand at my home. "And reminding me of what she's got over me. She wants me to bend."

Noriko looked to the side with her lips tightly pressed together. I could see her think it through. The expressions on her face shifted through exasperation, to thoughtfulness.

"Without Lung, I'd be dead," she said slowly. "I am not unbiased." She shrugged as I stood there and remembered Lung spitting up a bullet and her shredded shoulder. I tried to keep that recollection off my face. Gratitude. I could understand that. "I believe it is as you say, this is a test. But," she held up a finger. "Not many girls get a glass casket of imported hornets. She must like you."

It would have taken time, I knew. Money. Contacts. Lung would have had to set it in motion shortly after I met her the second time and bought a truck load of lies. What did she see in me then? It was a given the hornets were a bribe, but now I was starting to worry about the 'what for?'

Regardless, there was nothing to gain by fighting. Yet.

"Can you give me ten minutes?" I asked and gestured at myself and my running sweats. "Not dressed to go anywhere exactly."

It was a little power play of my own. I was self aware enough to know it was petty. Noriko accepted the delay humbly with a bob of her head. "Of course."

I went inside and fished around in the drawers in the kitchen for a pen and paper. Once I had it, I stood there bent over the counter and chewing on the back of the pen thinking about what to say. I considered writing something regarding the hornets but that would just draw his attention to it. The longer they went unnoticed, the better.

Out with friends? My ABB friends. He'd spend the next however long it took for me to come back worrying.

In the end, the note was depressingly short. 'Went out to the Boardwalk. Be back soon. Love, Taylor.'

I pinned it to the refrigerator and shuffled around all of the other notices and reminders stuck to the freezer door so that I was sure he would see it. After, I ran upstairs and ran through an accelerated morning routine. Clothes, standard casual over my spider-silk bodysuit and just in case, I slipped my burner phone out from under my bed and into the pocket of my jeans. Scarf.

I checked myself in the mirror as was my habit. Passable.

I headed back out into the sunlight where Noriko was leaning against the driver's side door. She made a show of looking at her watch.

"Thirteen minutes."

I rolled my eyes. "You'll live."

I climbed into the front passenger side, buckled in and waited until Noriko got the truck started with a loud revving sound and jolt. I reflected that I probably should be feeling a lot of apprehension or something but in reality, until I force the issue, nothing had changed. I had a dragon on my scarf and Lung liked me.

I wasn't feeling nervousness; it was more resignation.

"You said you and Lung are friends?" I asked Noriko. We were headed east along the main road, towards the Docks.

Noriko's lips twitched. "You can say that."

"So is she always a lying bitch or am I just special?" I spat.

Noriko actually laughed out loud at that, tickled pink. We turned at an intersection onto a road that ran parallel to the Boardwalk. I figured it was fair amount of evidence for Parian being within ABB territory. Did she live there before, or was she relocated? "She tells the truth when it suits her."

"And lies when it suits her," I finished.

"Doesn't everyone do the same?"

"No," I said stubbornly.

Noriko nodded her head to the side and sucked on the inside of her cheek. "You are going to tell the truth about your hornets?"

That was low. "That isn't fair and you know it."

"Maybe she wanted you to like her."

"I did," I admitted sourly.

"Ah," she said understandingly. "No one likes being lied to."

"It's more than that." I looked out of my window. "It's the fact that everything else was a lie too and she's got hundreds of people buying it." I struggled to put my feelings into words and stumbled upon what was at the heart of it. "The right things done for the right reasons, you are more likely to do it right. It didn't have to be a lie. It's, it's a _waste._ "

"Of Lung?" Noriko questioned lightly.

I didn't answer. Yeah, I know, still wishing the dragon masked woman was something she wasn't.

Fool me once.

"Parian isn't on the Docks," Noriko moved on. "I've borrowed the truck, so I'm returning it. I apologize for the delay."

I kept quiet for the rest of the drive and watched the scenery zip by.

Roughly ten minutes later, I stood on the corner and peered up at the sky as Noriko thanked the man for his pickup. He laughed boisterously, waving her off as the smoke from his grill tickled my nose with the smell of hickory coal. It was promising to be a warm day with a clear sky, perfect for picnics. The neighborhood was idyllic. Clean and well kept with a dog with a collar wandered the road sniffing at garbage cans.

It said a lot about the turn my life had taken lately that I was honestly a little suspicious, as if the harmless picture was hiding a dark secret. It was part of ABB holdings so of course something had to be wrong with it.

Even in the privacy of my own head, that reasoning sounded so damn stupid.

"I live over there," Noriko said upon returning. She nodded her head at one of the complexes that had one of those caterpillar stretch of garages beside it. "Let me get my keys."

I followed her across the street and snagged a dragonfly. Among all of the insects, I had found dragonflies had mind-blowing sight capabilities. Almost literally, until I got used to being able to see the polarized light-plane and the entire light spectrum into UV in 360 degree. I wouldn't say that I could see through walls, but I felt like it was impressive. I made a mental note to collect dragonflies and every other insect of use. My range wasn't that big but free super senses were nothing to sneeze at.

The world took on ultraviolet's whitish-purple film and I practiced turning it 'off' and on, and sectioning off the dragonfly's sight.

"Hello?" I snapped back to attention to see Noriko looking at me with concern. "You were miles away."

"Just thinking," I excused. With my mask on, it wouldn't matter, but I didn't like that I had a visible 'tell' of when I was in my bugs.

She rang the doorbell by the name 'Liu.' In a minute there was the sound of a woman grumbling with footsteps slapping against a hard floor. The inner door opened and Jing Wen peered out at us with narrowed eyes. She recognized me, a large smile coming over her face.

"How your hand?" She chortled as she opened the storm door and came out the front step. "Noriko. Go get newspaper."

Noriko's left eyebrow rose as she looked back behind us to where a newspaper lay on the curb in a pale blue plastic bag. When she turned back it was with a clear 'are you serious' expression on her face.

Her mother shooed her. "You make me walk so far? You strong enough."

Noriko rolled her eyes with an irritated huff and strode off causing Jing Wen to smile wider. "Hand?" she asked me.

"Oh, um, better." I held it up and flexed it, feeling touched. "Amy healed it."

" _Xiao She?"_ Jing Wen laughed quietly. "Very nice girl. Help me too."

I kept the fact that Amy had a brush with death yesterday to myself.

Noriko returned, blue bag prize in hand and handed it off to her mother.

I decided now was the perfect time to try out the Chinese word I knew. "Um, Nihao?" Jing Wen gasped with delight and then I found myself staring in abject horror as words I couldn't make heads or tails of ripped out of her mouth. I panicked. "I only know how to say hello!"

The elderly woman laughed and hugged me. Noriko smiled wistfully as Jing Wen patted me on the shoulder in an oddly familiar way. "You stay for tea, yes?"

Noriko interjected with her lips twisting into a small frown. "We actually have to - "

Jing Wen interrupted her in turn with something that sounded scathing. The old woman clung to me almost possessively, as if Noriko was going to rip me away at any moment. She was tiny compared to me, slightly hunched over with a bony hand on her cane and the other on my wrist. Her face was obstinate as she stared her daughter down.

Noriko's face cleared of emotion. She spoke softly and evenly, almost pleasantly. I wished I could understand what they were saying to each other.

Jing Wen's fingers tightened on my arm momentarily, then she smiled and tutted. "I make tea, come, come."

Her daughter stiffened and her dark eyes narrowed, but she relaxed soon after.

"Do you mind?" Noriko asked me as an aside, staring after her mother. Her mouth was caught between what could have been a sneer or a smile but by the time the expression finished forming it was solidly amused. "Mother has overruled me."

"A few minutes wouldn't hurt," I said. I supposed I was stalling but Jing Wen seemed earnest and I didn't want to disappoint the woman.

Jing Wen and Noriko's home was on the second floor and was marked with a large red fan with a black iconography of a long, undulating dragon over the door. Gold streamers hung off the two edges of the fan to frame the door. I wondered if it meant anything.

The inside was spacious and surprisingly western with four-legged chairs around a polished round table in the center room. The apartment split off in four directions with partial walls and open gaps instead of doors. I could see the marble counter top of the kitchen from where I was and Jing Wen made a beeline for it, depositing the newspaper on top of a pile of other newspapers still in their plastic bags.

"Where'd you learn to say hello?" Noriko asked as she sat down at the center table. Sprawled at it, actually, like she was just used to having the entire tabletop to herself.

I clammed up a little. "A man named Jin? He was," I choked on the word 'nice.' Jin, with the Triad tattoo and gun in his belt was nice, to me. However, he was not a good person.

I sat down across from her. The wooden chair creaked a little but the cushion was comfortable. "Just you and your mom here?"

Noriko nodded. "It's been me and mother for…" her brows furrowed and for a moment, she looked lost. "A long time now."

Her mother returned from the kitchen carrying a porcelain tray with gleaming small round tea cups, a small pot in the center and a larger, steaming pitcher. " _Wulong_ ," Jing Wen told me with an excited air as she handed me my tea cup. "Black dragon tea."

"Why is it called that?" I asked, genuinely curious. I was used to boringly descriptive names for tea, like 'raspberry' or 'ginger.'

"For the curled leaves," Noriko answered. "They uncurl in hot water, like its alive." She wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't taste right from a tea bag."

Jing Wen opened the top of the small pot to show me the leaves. They were shriveled like worms. She poured hot water from the pitcher into the pot and the leaves soaked it up, unfolding almost aggressively, squirming. She put the pot-cover back on and let the water stew for a little while, then poured the dark green-tinted tea into my cup with swirling tea leaf fragments sinking to the bottom. She did the same for Noriko and then herself.

I'd seen the bags of imported tea leaves and they always had a hefty price tag thanks to how poorly the international shipping lines were doing. Prices for everything were rising. "Must have cost a lot."

Noriko adopted a serious demeanor, on the cusp of imparting great wisdom. "Don't skimp on tea." She nodded at my cup. "Try it."

I swirled the tea around and lifted the cup to my lips for a sip. It was sweet, almost fruity with a honey aftertaste. It was lovely. I took a bigger gulp.

I now had an ideal breakfast. The banana pastry Bao gave me and this tea. Done.

Noriko smiled victoriously, vindicated for some reason. "My favorite too."

Jing Wen looked back and forth between us almost suspiciously. I wondered if she knew what kind of things her daughter got up to as part of ABB and if she didn't, how strongly she would disapprove. The woman waited patiently as Noriko lifted her tea cup and started to take a sip before attacking her with, "You date this girl father?"

The timing was perfect.

Noriko inhaled an entire mouthful of hot liquid and began choking, coughing and sputtering all over the table with tears in her eyes. She got out of her chair and staggered for the door. She almost didn't make it, coughing so hard she had to just lean against the door frame and fall through. She barely passed out of sight through the door when there was a thump and more coughing.

I was actually starting to worry that the woman had literally crawled off to die.

"That was mean," I said.

Jing Wen radiated smugness. "You see this gray hair!" She demanded in her accented tones. She pointed at the door her daughter had stumbled through. "Her fault!" That was followed by shouting in Chinese which I assumed was Jing Wen making good and sure Noriko heard the accusation.

The woman wheezed back weakly, ending with a plaintive, " _Mama._..." That just invited another tirade until Noriko gave up, almost whining. " _Hao ba! Hao ba!"_

Jing Wen stopped mid-word in gobsmacked surprise and then suspiciously demanded something else. There was another thump, this time of Noriko hitting the wall, that was her answer. The elderly woman huffed and sipped at her tea.

"I teach you Mandarin," she told me sternly.

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. "That's a generous offer?" I tried. "Why?"

" _Aiyah,_ " she moaned. "Noriko is away too much." Her eyes flickered over to the quiet patch of wall Noriko was on the other side of. "And you like tea!"

"I'll see if I can make the time," I tried to let her down gently. Her face fell and I felt like a heel for doing so. "I'm sorry."

"Noriko take too much of time, yes?"

"Not her," I corrected. "Things. Life in general," I muttered. "School and homework."

She nodded quickly. "I understand." She spared Noriko's half spilled tea cup a glance and then focused back on me. "Finish tea!"

I had no problem following that order.

Once I finished, Jing Wen gathered the fine china tray and pitcher. I picked up the tea cups and she smiled approvingly. I followed her to the kitchen and at her direction put the cups on the counter. She set down the tray and peered into my cup.

"Tea read," she said. "Dog," she pointed out an amorphous blob of tea leaf fragments that I guessed could be a dog if I tilted my head just so and took a few drugs. I didn't say that though. I suppose it was like cloud watching?

"Bird," I tapped the side of my cup by the V-shaped leftovers.

Jing Wen clapped her hands together once. "Good fortune." She ran the cups under water and a soapy sponge. "Dog is loyal. Bird is good news."

I didn't think anyone put much faith in horoscopes these days but I let myself smile. "I could use good news." And loyalty. "About what you asked…" I felt really uncomfortable but the fact remained that Noriko hadn't actually answered the question. "She's not dating my father."

Jing Wen muttered to herself.

I blinked. "Wait, were you hoping…"

"She be old woman soon!" Jing Wen hissed, sounding genuinely concerned about it. "When she listen?"

I felt the smirk on my face and tried to wipe it off without much success. "I'm sure she appreciates you worrying about her."

The woman seemed to shrink and age as her washing slowed. "She does not." She snorted then and regained energy, scrubbing at the teacups with all her strength. "I worry always. She my daughter. Always worry."

And that was how my Dad felt.

The smile fell Wen noticed the down turn in my mood and smiled. It was a wide smile that made the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and laugh lines more prominent as she clucked her tongue. "You come back for tea, yes?"

"I'd love to," I said. I surprised myself by meaning it. I hadn't known my own grandmother very well. My only memories of her were of a tired but defiant woman with white hair and whispered conversations. It was an incredible amount of bias on my part, but Noriko's mother liked me so I was inclined to like her back. "The tea was delicious."

"Better when left in water longer," she replied and shook water droplets off of the cup she had been washing. She turned the tap off and grabbed a dish towel off it's hook on the wall. "Four and five," she muttered something, searching for the word and not finding it. "You come later, yes?"

I smiled at her. "I'll try."

We made quick work of the rest of the tea cups and the platter. I handed her the second cup and she handed back the washed and dried one she just finished and pointed out where to put it. I was given charge of the second cup, and then the platter as Jing Wen complained about Noriko 'wasting tea' and not growing out of breaking tea cups.

The woman in question popped her head in shortly, wearing a light scowl. "I'll be in the car," she said impatiently and ducked out of sight when her mother flung droplets of water at her. I didn't know if the rush was because we really did need to be at Parian's at a certain time, or if she just wanted to get going before her mother broke out the baby pictures. I couldn't say I blamed her.

Jing Wen insisted on escorting me outside. Coming down the stairs, I got the feeling that the cane she had was used out of habit than her actually needing it. She was rather sprightly for her apparent age and I tentatively attributed that to Amy's help. Had it been arthritis, maybe?

I opened the door for her anyway. By the entrance was rows upon rows of small mailboxes, about twenty four in all but only four of them had names. Liu was one of them, as was Watanabe, but I couldn't read the others. Either it was an empty apartment building or people just didn't feel like claiming a small metal box in the wall. I put it out of my mind and headed outside.

Rumbling idle on the street in front of the building was a black sedan with a thin silver grill and a familiar logo. I felt my eyebrows raise. Since Japan started declining with their ports, and an island, being sunk by the Endbringer Leviathan, their exported car industry no doubt took a big hit. But still…

"Really?" I asked.

Noriko looked at her car, then back at me. "What?"

"A Japanese car?" National pride was a thing, I guessed but she was also really fitting the cliche right now.

She visibly winced and hovered around her car protectively as if trying to ward off the mean words. "It's, uh, it's from Kyushu. Discontinued."

"Oh." Shit. Now I felt like a complete asshole. Great going, me.

She kept the somber expression on for about two more seconds before suddenly grinning. "Just kidding."

My mouth dropped open. "You -!"

She barked in laughter as she opened the driver's side door and slipped in. I laughed myself a little, more out of disbelief than anything else. She got me good.

I grabbed a ladybug that had been hiding in the grass and fed it to my dragonfly as a thank you before letting it go. Like the crab, it hovered in the air eating and largely unresponsive until I gave it instructions to 'act normal' at which point it sped away with its meal. It was an oddity about my power I was attributing to the changes it made to the insect. I could only hope it was a sustainable change and that hordes of formerly-controlled bugs wouldn't start dropping out of the sky, dead.

There was a slight tug on my sleeve and I turned. Jing Wen was there with a very solemn expression.

"Noriko say she get man." Jing Wen informed me seriously, with a wrinkled finger held up to my chin, punctuating her every word. "You see she get one - "

Somehow from within the car, Noriko could hear what was going on or at least had a very good guess. Behind Jing Wen's head, I could see her palm her face and the hand slowly slide off as her head dipped lower and lower, before just slamming her forehead into the steering wheel. The rest of Jing Wen's instructions were buried under the sound of a blaring car horn.

Jing Wen scowled in that direction before turning back to me with an exasperated sigh. "Come back," she said. Both of her hands were on her bamboo cane and she was slightly hunched over, looking like a good stiff breeze would knock her over. "Please."

It occurred to me then, that in between her comments about Noriko being away too often and so few people in her building, it was possible the elderly woman was lonely. I knew all too well how that felt.

"I will," I promised.

The car horn blared again. "Let's go!"

"Good-bye," I said.

 _"Zai jian,"_ Jing Wen replied. I repeated those words best I could and she smiled, a small, sad smile. As I was getting into the black car I saw Noriko and her mother look at each other. Jing Wen's smile faded. Noriko tilted her head in a side nod and glanced at me before facing forward, shifting the car out of park mode.

We pulled away. In the rear-view mirror, I saw the old woman shake her head and slowly head back inside.

We headed south, maybe south-west, on our way towards Parian. The familiar surroundings of the Docks and the suburban outskirts faded out to be replaced by modern buildings, wider roads and the edge of Brockton Bay's gang neutral zone. We skirted the edge of downtown where there were small mom and pop shops and tiny restaurants in the shadow of office buildings. It was a Sunday so while all of the tourists were still crowding the Boardwalk, this looked like where you might find a fair portion of the locals. If you didn't want to bother with the strip mall dominating commerce at the center, or its prices, you came here.

Our destination was a small store with mannequins wearing elaborate dresses. The front store window had coverall-wearing men fitting new window panes and orange traffic cones with yellow tape stretched between them blocked off the front door. The sidewalk was in the later stages of repair with new, damp concrete slabs. A giant hole in the street opposite the direction we came from was similarly surrounded.

"What happened here?" I thought out loud. At first, getting out of the car felt very strange. I felt like the red scarf I was wearing marked me out for everyone to see. I shook off my misgivings.

"If I had to guess?" Noriko's face was grim. "Empire."

"Neutral zone," I said. I wondered if it was neutral because the gangs themselves enforced it, or were they just not willing to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs yet, and everyone else hoped it was enforced.

Noriko was quiet as she shut her door with a bit more force than was necessary.

I followed her to the storefront and we got instructions from one of the men overseeing the window replacement to use the side door instead.

The inside of the store looked like a tent blew up.

There were streamers of fabric arcing down from the ceiling, stretching from one corner to another and the walls were covered with hanging pieces of fabric like tapestries. Some were square, others an elongated diamond shape and others still could charitably be called "patches" with ripped edges and jagged designs. Pins of varying shape and size held it all together with a gigantic needle ball on the counter by Parian.

She was bent over a notebook with long golden curls spilling over her shoulders. What I could see of her costume was lacy and white complete with satin gloves. Noriko cleared her throat and she looked up. Her mask was that of a doll's face with black-out around blue eyes. I'd heard of her doing promotionals for fashion but to me, she looked a bit off-putting. The doll face was endlessly smiling even as her eyes behind the mask narrowed.

"Oh," she said. She looked back and forth between me and Noriko silently.

"What happened?" Noriko asked flatly.

"Vandals," Parian responded tersely. "Cosmetic damage, mostly." She glanced at me again and her question was tinged with bitterness, "What do you want?"

Noriko reached over and flapped my scarf.

Parian nodded shortly. "Of course. A moment."

She slipped off her chair and my estimation of her height plummeted to just around five feet. Noriko and I both towered over her by at least seven to eight inches making me feel like I was looming. She went into the back, the streams of cloth blocking the door moving out of her way without being touched. That was Parian's power, the ability to manipulate fabric which really asked the question of: how was there a power conflict between that and metal control?

A bullshit excuse for press-ganging a rogue into the ABB?

Parian came back carrying a few scarves, each with a different color scheme and iconography.

"You got that all done in a few hours?" I asked, surprised. Lung had only just mentioned it late last night.

Parian's gaze was flat. "I had an early morning."

She laid them out on the counter and motioned us over. Most had a dragon on it in one way or another. There was a dark blue one with with thin, subtle dragons snaking up the edges that Noriko vetoed by moving it away. A green one with a stylized eastern dragon face made out of negative space and outlined in red crescents. I reached for the only scarf that didn't have a dragon on it at all, but an artistic rendition of a bee.

Noriko chuckled. "Not yet, I think."

"I didn't think so either," Parian said quickly. "But Lung's instructions were a little vague."

Noriko inspected another scarf, one that had Chinese characters written with draconic images. "Her mistake." She held it up. In the other hand was the final scarf which was a dark yellow with black sinuous dragons twisting around each other running down the center and the ends of the scarf were striped like a bee. "Which one?"

I pointed at the yellow one for two reasons. The dragon motif was stretched out and not immediately obvious and the bee stripes were cute. "You did a wonderful job with these," I told Parian.

The former rogue paused in gathering up the discarded scarves. "...Thank you." She almost ran away.

"She'll make four," Noriko informed me. "Policy is, you can give two away to vouch for others."

"Any difference between those people and members?" I asked.

"It's probationary. If they aren't members in a month, the voucher is taken back." She gave me an assessing look. "But until then? No."

That was putting quite a bit of influence in the hands of a pressured member, I thought. There had to be more to it.

"Trust from Lung?" I scoffed. I didn't for a second believe that.

Noriko's hand tightened on the scarf and irritation flitted over her face. "No. Expectation of competence from Lung. Problem?"

I snatched the scarf from her. "None."

Her small smile reappeared. "Good."

When Parian returned, she faltered slightly at seeing us still there. "Something else," she didn't so much ask as state tiredly.

"Lung requires replacements," Noriko said with a 'what can you do' spread of her hands.

"Already?" Parian demanded. She stalked to the counter and flipped through the notebook there until she came upon a long list of words I couldn't quite read upside-down. "What did she do to them?"

Noriko swept a finger through half of the list. "Fire." Parian slumped and started rubbing at her temples as another fourth was x'ed. "Torn, ripped, shredded." The finger paused on one. "That one was turned to crystal and shattered."

I could feel my eyebrows hanging out with my hairline.

"Diamond?" Parian mentioned the name of one of the E88's new capes with resignation.

"Diamond," Noriko confirmed. "Acid got that dress, don't ask me how. Bullets."

Parian let out a sound of disgust and snapped the book shut. "Fine. Fine! Now please leave."

Noriko shifted and I got the feeling she had just stopped herself from looking at me. "You will be reimbursed, of course."

Parian blinked. "I will?"

"I just decided now," Noriko said with a sardonic smile. "If Lung doesn't like it, I'll take responsibility."

The costumed woman drooped. "Thank you," she breathed. "The store - "

"Including whatever it cost to repair the store," Noriko grimaced. "You should have told someone."

" _Who?_ " Parian snapped. "Kali? I don't want to go anywhere _near_ that bitch." Whatever goodwill Noriko had built with offering to pay was fast evaporating and I could tell she saw it.

"Has she - "

Parian shrunk into herself. "No, not since...just leave. Please leave. I have work to do."

Noriko bowed, low and silently turned on her heel.

"I'm sorry," I said and followed her out. Outside in the sunny weather and the distant roar of cars traveling through downtown, I said, "And an additional twenty percent."

Noriko looked at me. "Oh?"

"For hardship." I carefully folded up Bao's scarf and put mine on. I was estimating hundreds to thousands of dollars extra and that was the least Parian deserved. "Problem?"

She smiled faintly and looked thoughtful. "I have not met her face to face before," she admitted. She struggled to put her thoughts into words. "It was enlightening," she settled on. "No problem."

I bit my lip. " _Is_ Lung going to complain?" I ventured.

Her smile strengthened. "Doubt it." She opened her car door. "I'll take you back home."

"Actually, if you could make that the hospital instead?" I asked as I got into the car and with a bit of annoyance, readjusted my seat. I was a bit taller than whoever it had been set for originally. I could get back from the hospital by bus easily. "I want to visit Amy and Peter."

"Am I your driver?"

"Aren't you?" I challenged. I wanted to know how far Lung's orders went. My stomach tensed.

She held my eyes for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Kato wanted to visit too, guess she's going early."

I let out a tiny sigh of relief. "Why do you call her Kato? Isn't her name Yuka?" I buckled in as the car started.

"Because it annoys her," was the smirking answer.

I snorted.


	16. Interlude, Browbeat

**Interlude, Browbeat**

* * *

It wasn't the fact that he was drowning that got him.

Peter could remember looking up and seeing the murky white underside of the boat. He could remember seeing fish darting out of view with the sun glinting off scales and the shock of the cold water making him take a breath, and then the wet cold was inside, choking him. He had a moment of thinking, 'well, that was a stupid idea' before he saw his father jump into the water after him.

His father was one of those parents that tried too hard making sure his family had everything they ever wanted, and ended up giving them none of his time. He had his pressed suits and ties, ready made suitcases because every other week he was going somewhere and then he brought work home, locking himself in his office or on the phone day in and day out.

Peter almost thought the suit wore his father instead of the other way around. Custom-tailored. Stifling.

His father jumped in wearing a suit. Peter stared blankly at it as the man grabbed him with horrified shock on his face. The silk tie had swans on it. He could remember that vividly.

His father wasn't a good swimmer.

The man struggled as Peter hung there, slowly sinking. He thought maybe he smiled at his father, trying to be reassuring? Maybe he wanted to be saved.

There was another faint sploosh of water and his uncle joined in.

He was hauled up onto the shore, dim and choking. He could vaguely remember his mother frozen on the boat, still staring at the spot where he had walked over the side. His uncle was swearing under his breath as rough hands beat on his chest and his cousin was wide eyed, cellphone in hand and already dialing. His aunt was crying. His father's suit was dripping wet and the ironed white shirt wrinkled and stained with dirty lake water.

It'd been one of his father's favorite suits, dry clean only. The last time he wore it had been a month ago before leaving on a business trip to Boston. On a fast track, he had said, with a checkered tie. Things were looking up and within a year, they could be looking at moving there, bigger city, more money. Living the dream, pretty wife, handsome son, happy dog.

The dog died last year and Peter had walked off a boat.

It'd been a nice outing. Before he'd gone and ruined it. Like with everything. The months that passed after he saw his mother gain weight and gray hairs, treating him like fine china glass. On the phones to her friends and socialites, her excuses started with, "Well, Peter…"

May I hug you, Peter? She would ask. Please?

His father took an extended vacation from his job. He never said he quit but they never mentioned Clarendon again. They started eating different, not going out as much. September came and went, and they didn't buy a new car. His father stopped wearing his suits, moved around in casual clothing like he didn't know what to do without a tie on. He was home for two weeks straight, then a third week and before he knew it his father was home for two months without going anywhere. He didn't miss Peter's next birthday. Started asking how his day went, any girls he was interested in, how about those Braves?

There were times where he felt like he couldn't even hear what his parents were saying to him.

Just noise.

Peter knew something was wrong with him.

The day he walked off a boat was the first time he wished he could fix it.

* * *

He felt that familiar trickle of anticipation as he waited, crouched on the cover of a dumpster with a brick in his hand and a different face on. Punks of varying sizes and smell levels littered the ground, some with nasty looking puncture wounds. Merchants.

As a force in Brockton Bay, the Merchants were done. Rumor had it Skidmark, the leader, made a play for the fringes of Lung's claimed territory in some kind of bid not to be ignored or some kind of similar stupid shit you only thought of when baked with an inferiority complex. Peter didn't think the man got unbaked long enough to see that it was stupid and when Lung had enough, well. The angry dragon rampaging through his territory had been a complete surprise to absolutely no one but Skidmark.

He couldn't say he was invested in the whole hero business. Most of the time there was what he wanted to do, what he didn't want to do and conventional morality was an afterthought. 'Theft' was taking someone's things. Wrong? Yeah, sure. The once-owner wouldn't like it, and Peter himself didn't like having his things taken, so don't do it, mmkay?

They were all just a bunch of talking monkeys walking upright with roles to play.

He assumed taking out the remnants of drug addicted trash was why she was here. He could see the bumps shifting under the skin that showed through the woman's ripped costume. Seconds ago, they had been hardened spikes blocking off the alleyway like a hedgehog's meaner big sister, sharp enough to cut through brick like hot butter and where she got the extra mass from he had no idea. Her clothes budget must be nasty.

"Gun, huh?" He asked with sympathy.

She turned her face a little and he could see more of the hole growing back in, covering the exposed bone of her jaw one layer at a time. The other half was flawless, aquiline nose, heart shaped face with high cheekbones with her wavy dark hair. Her dark skin tone was an afterthought, and he still felt bad for noticing.

When you lived in a town whose claims to fame included literal super powered neo-Nazis, you can't blame a guy for being self-conscious about that sort of thing.

"Ya." She gestured with a hand. "Got him?"

He hefted the brick in his hand and let it fly. Not too hard and it nailed the fleeing gang member in the leg. He fell with a cry and the gun skittered underneath a dumpster on the far side. Baseball paying off. "My good deed for the day."

Her lips finished growing in. She had an understated smile, younger than he thought. _Pretty girl._ That kind of made things a little bit awkward because he was sure he'd recognize the half of her face he could see on the street, meanwhile he was cheating. He could be like, 'Hey, you don't remember me because I was wearing someone else's face but we met in a dark alley with Merchants around and you got shot in the face…'

Probably wouldn't get him her number.

Brutes had it tough, he knew. Once people knew you could take it, they tended to go further than they normally would because they thought they wouldn't kill you. She didn't seem to be any tougher than the average human being, but he did just see her reattach a finger. The whole 'face growing back in' bit was just icing on the hard-to-kill cake.

Learning how to be bullet proof was his first goal as a superhero. He had it all parsed out into goals and steps, the only piece missing was the decision to go out and be one in the first place. He thought about it sometimes. What the fuck am I doing? Why?

Why, why, why.

He didn't know and that was the beauty of it. Chaos he could lose himself in, put on a role and a show and forget he was fucked up.

"Got a name?" He hopped off the dumpster and shored up his muscles. They could take an expensive steak knife shoved into his chest, he knew that from experience. Whether it could take her spikes, when solid brick and concrete couldn't, he wasn't eager to test.

She considered. "Durga."

"Hindi warrior goddess, nice." She gave him a look and he held up his hands, batting his eyelashes innocently. "What? I read."

Her smile grew as the hole in her cheek closed up to leave unblemished skin. "You?"

"Browbeat," he grinned. Not a very heroic name when you considered what it meant; to bully, to intimidate but more importantly?

"Dumb name," Durga said bluntly.

"It's _my_ dumb name, thank you very much." Come on, who was going to take a kid hero named 'Browbeat' seriously? "Got a phone?"

Her lips pursed and she looked around. She walked up to one of the downed members and nonchalantly kicked him hard in the gut. The poor bastard curled around her foot, coughing. "Phone?" She asked.

The druggie dug it out of his stained pants and handed it over. Peter raised an eyebrow at the casual violence. He probably wasn't in a good place to start judging other people and she could have easily made it lethal if she wanted to. He wasn't sure he'd take being shot in the face so well. Bullets tended to sting like a motherfucker.

She dialed a number and dropped the phone back on the owner as a studiously even voice answered with, "PRT Emergency Services."

"Feel free to tell the nice lady where you are," Durga said. The beaten gang member nodded pitifully and spoke haltingly into the phone.

"You don't know?" Peter asked her in a stage whisper.

She shrugged. "Got lost."

He wasn't sure if that explained the budget costume or not. Still, a back alley filled with Merchants was a hell of a place to get lost in. "Maybe I could help?" He smiled winningly.

She huffed. "Maybe. Looking for a suburb."

He raised his other eyebrow. Again, inner-city back alley. "You took a wrong turn somewhere."

Her lips quirked. "Figured."

Peter didn't know the city half as well as he thought he did. They wandered around, lost, for the better part of two hours before he gave up and invaded a gas station for directions. As well as a snickers bar and he bought Durga a coke.

Telling the story to Amy several months later, he would claim that was the start of a beautiful friendship with him as the dashing hero saving the day and the damsel from the unwashed masses of Merchants. Tanking the errant bullet with his face (because that was badass, he had to steal the credit) and delivering her unharmed to her aunt's house. Bullshit would be called at least three times and in fact, the friendship didn't start until a week later at the cesspit of a school he went to.

He had seen her at lunch, on the developing 'ABB' side of the cafeteria with fang earrings, her boyfriend's arm around her and looking bored. He couldn't see all of her face, but what he could see was enough to spark the neurons. His first thought was, 'wow, she goes to my school.'

His second was, 'aww, come on, football jock, really?'

He tried to ignore her, because of course she would be hanging out with gang members, Brockton Bay was kind of fucked up like that, and work through his ham and cheese sandwich in peace. The little atrocities were going on in the lunchroom like normal. That boy getting pressured by E88 members, their 'chaperone' walking out with a female student, that girl getting bullied.

'Durga's' boyfriend had apparently noticed she wasn't paying attention and had grabbed her by the chin, forcefully making her look at him. She winced.

There were a lot of things Peter could stand to watch, maybe a lot of things he really shouldn't stand to watch but that hit a button he didn't know he had. He was up, sandwich abandoned as he stalked over to that table. He found himself sizing the douchebag up and clenching his fists.

"The fuck do you want?" Older, prime for graduation and wearing his football jersey. The big game was in two weeks. He wouldn't want to screw that up, would he? His estimated chances of getting beat up was dropping.

Peter grinned. "Just wanted to let you know, I'm being real considerate here, but I'm taking your girl." And then as an afterthought, he pointed at the jersey. 17. "And your number."

The table went quiet. On adjacent tables, a few students turned to look at him. Gang made up of different nationalities, don't share a lunch room table at school, but everyone turns to look at the white guy.

That's irony for you.

"The fuck?" 17 muttered. He turned to Durga. "Do you even know this guy?"

Her face was in that incredulous look of 'I don't know what's happening' expression as she slowly shook her head.

"Yeah, okay, maybe you should just," 17 made a shooing hand motion. "Wander off back where you came from and I forget about this. I'm being considerate here, got it?"

"I used that line first," Peter pouted.

17 moved to stand up and Durga intervened. "I have this, I have this." She rounded the table while giving him a look that said he was an interestingly colored specimen and she wanted to know whether or not he was poisonous sooner rather than later. "Follow me?"

Right, people were watching. She probably wanted to spare him any additional humiliation. "Sure."

Once they got past the double doors and leaving the excited whispering behind, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Was that just a really ballsy way of asking me out?"

"No pain, no gain," he quipped. "Why not aim high? Not like I was going to be shot in the face, so I handled it."

Her expression flickered. A little bit of recognition, a little nervousness and disbelief. Her mouth opened, then closed without a word.

He gave her his best rendition of the 'puppy dog eyes.' "So about the asking you out thing...Would you?"

"I have a boyfriend," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but he's a dick." Peter paused. "Please don't make me go into the 'you need someone that appreciates you' speech. It'll be long winded and I'm terrible with speeches. I mean I can and you're not dumb so if this is one of those girls want bad boys thing…"

She laughed. "Not that simple, but...it isn't that."

"Sure it is! Just say, 'Dick, don't want to see you again. Peter's awesome.' And you're done."

She had that subdued smile on again. "Peter," she repeated. "Kameswari." He thought about what he knew about Hindi gods and goddesses and barely hid his grin. That was...actually kind of clever. "And I'll think about it."

That wasn't a no, he thought. "Got a phone?"

Her expression flickered again. This time around, she did and they swapped numbers. Peter reflected that finding a superpowered partner to run around beating heads together in the back alleys of Brockton Bay was exactly like asking a girl out and clearly his father had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'll call you," he promised.

The answer ended up being yes.

So he met a girl. That he ended up following that girl into a gang but then she met Tony and he got friend-zoned so fast his head spun but he couldn't hate the guy; life kicked the shit out of him already. That was a story he told no one. There was a life lesson in there somewhere and by the time he realized he was in, he also realized he didn't really want to leave. He didn't even have to think about his snake bracelets anymore. It took about two weeks before they stopped feeling strange on his hands and about a month before he started feeling a little weird if he didn't have one on.

He met Lung once. From the woman who singlehandedly destroyed the Merchants he expected posturing, a few threats or something a lot more domineering than what he got. She had asked a few simple questions and he stuck to his role.

Looking back...yeah, she saw right through him. Realized the game he had been playing with her, understood the rules. She had couched it in terms he could understand. It was just another role. Turn a blind eye, hang out with people he genuinely liked. And when the time came, do whatever he felt comfortable with. He was being offered a spot on the winning team, so why not?

Before he knew it, his snake bracelet was the role he didn't know how to _stop_ playing. Hook, line and sinker.

The look on his parents face when they found out. They hadn't been angry. Small mercies, right? His mom had been scared. His father, just resigned.

'Be safe, Peter.'

Drowning again.

* * *

You wouldn't know it to look at her, but Amy Dallon had a few issues.

Just thinking that made him a walking billboard for hypocrisy but it was true. It had taken Peter a while to puzzle it out, to tease it out by offering his own ideas because how often do capes run across a person with a twin power? She was everything but her own cells, he was strictly his own cells, same power. She could see what he did to his body, he could see what she did to it, it was like a biofeedback loop of awesomeness.

So the first time he offered to be a test bed for a flesh eating fungus wasn't his brightest idea, and Amy had been traumatized, but she broke out of her shell. That counted for something, didn't it?

Amy was afraid of herself.

And it was a deep rooted fear, like everything she touched was bound to go bad somehow, a curse. At first he thought it stemmed from some kind of colossal fuck up somewhere down the line. Panacea didn't make mistakes. Miracle healer. Everything except brains.

He had his suspicions.

She stood in the doorway to his hospital room with her IV taped to the underside of her arm and the bag on a pulley-stand behind her. She looked like she was in dire need of coffee or sleep or both.

"You look like shit," he told her.

"Feel like it," she groaned. "You know, it took them an _hour_ to get this IV in? Why are needles _even a thing_?"

"Not everyone is as awesome as us," he literally singsonged. Classic Amy, deflecting legit concern about how she was doing. Which meant she wasn't doing well. "And the painkillers are wearing off," he deduced. Of course she wouldn't tell anyone about that.

She glared at him blearily. "And the painkillers are wearing off. Stupid power." She walked into the room and stopped by his newest guest. She hiked up the sleeve of her hospital gown with bandaged fingers and laid her forearm on Lisa's hand. She sank onto the bed after a few moments, chewing on her lip. "Stupid power," she repeated.

"They said she'd be okay." He was here until morning, tops but bomb girl had a long road of recovery ahead of her. At least it was recovery. The pride at having taken part in saving a life against all odds hadn't faded yet. If Peter had anything to say about it, it never would.

"You know what they don't see?" Amy asked him tersely. "The bacteria is supposed to clear out dead cells."

"How does it heal?" He asked warily.

"Technically it doesn't," Amy explained. "It turns into the missing cells. And it _wasn't made for brains_."

"So she's got fake neurons?" Part of him was squeeing like a demented fangirl 'that was so cool!' but most of him considered what neurons that weren't actually neurons were going to do for brain functions. Yeah, he was taking AP Biology. He'd also done his own homework and the brain got complicated as shit.

"Her brain's different," Amy said faintly. "The structure, the parts," her brows furrowed. "I can't say how different but it's...different."

"Could you fix it?"

"I don't even remember what her brain looked like in the first place," she snapped. "Do you really want me changing things on a _best guess?_ "

Peter deliberately did not say anything.

On cue, Amy hunched. "Sorry. I just - "

"My fault," he interrupted her. "I shouldn't be pressuring you."

Amy shook her head quickly, sending her hair whipping back and forth. "You weren't." There were a couple of minutes of silence. Peter picked up one of his books that his mother had gotten for him off the side table by his bed. He only got a few pages in when Amy laughed bitterly.

"I was just thinking, the doctors here, they went to school for this, right?"

"Years and years," he confirmed. Sounded like an extended self-inflicted nightmare to him. Sure, medical school was unlikely to be like Winslow but a decade of mid terms and final exams seemed masochistic.

"What are the chances they remember everything they were ever taught perfectly?"

"Zilch."

"So they could get it wrong."

"Yup."

Amy ducked her head. "And they try anyway. The best they can."

Peter lowered the book. "What do you want me to say, Ames?"

"I don't, I don't want you to say anything. I just - I can't go back from here? So I have to move forward." She mumbled, "and I need to think." She checked on Lisa again with her wrist and got up. "Good night, Peter."

"Hey." He called at her. She stopped. "I got your back, okay?"

Her answering grin was wide. She knew that already.

Because it didn't matter what path she took, BFFs. Amy knew what was wrong with his head and what it meant for his future, and she didn't care. She accepted Peter, just as he was. This whole business with the bomb got his blood boiling. If anyone wanted to hurt Amy, they were going through him first.

Good friends kept an eye out for approaching enemies, right? They got your back.

Best friends hid the bodies.

* * *

 _Lisa gasped, scaring the shit out of him._

 _"_ _Jesus, you're awake?"_

 _She didn't respond. Her eyes opened, pupils dilated, and lolled around in her head. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath out of water and he got out of his bed. He made about two steps before he saw her convulse and the tell tale red liquid drip from her nose._

 _He slammed the emergency button on the wall._

 _He dashed over to her bedside, panicking. "Are, are you having a seizure? Can you talk? Shit, are you supposed to be able to talk? I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!"_

 _The blonde girl looked up at him and there was no recognition on her face. "Danger," she whispered._

 _The door opened._

 _A doctor walked in, handsome with black hair with a clipboard and syringe. His nametag said 'Coleman.' He approached Lisa's bed and Peter felt his hackles rise. When the cap to the syringe came off, he found himself snatching the man's wrist and yanking the needle away._

 _"_ _How abouts I take that?"_

 _"_ _I'm not," the man gave him that weird look like he couldn't believe what had just happened. "It's just a medication for any lingering issues with her kidneys."_

 _Lisa was gone again, just laying there like a pale spectre on the hospital bed. "Amy was just here checking on her. Medication not needed."_

 _"_ _I'm doing my job," Coleman said angrily._

 _"_ _Do it in the morning," Peter shot back. A suspicion sprung fully formed to his lips. "Besides, emergency button was hit. No questions, no urgency, what's so great about the needle, doc?"_

 _Coleman's face went blank and then he lunged for the needle. Peter headbutted him feeling his muscles tear as he forcibly reshaped them, and his head rang. Bones next. Coleman fell back and the hand on his wrist kept him from flopping over Lisa. Peter pulled him close and headbutted him again, harder. He didn't feel anything that time._

 _Coleman dropped._

 _Dark figures entered the room and one of them raised a shape he knew all too well. He got in the way._

 _The silenced bullet was still loud in the confines of the room. It hit him in the chest and caught in the cords of muscle. He flooded his body with endorphins, clotted the wound and screamed as loud as he could. Someone had to be around, these people were shooting to kill._

 _The second bullet caught him in the mouth. White hot pain screamed across the side of his face and exploded out by his ear._

 _Time to stop playing nice._

 _The body already knew how to make acid. A different acid, half forgotten lessons in chemistry and distilling and the pain rocketed from the base of his mouth down to a newly forming cannibalistic organ. He grinned, wide, and spit like a cobra. The liquid splashed onto their armor and began to smoke, eating through it._

 _Panic._

 _He barreled into the nearest one in a textbook football tackle. A bone spur erupted from his shoulder blade as they crashed together. Enamel clashed with kevlar and won out. The acid burned his skin for a moment before he adapted. He jerked the bone out of the body it was lodged in as he pushed off the floor with a feeling like he was sliding through air. He whipped out his arm, catching the second by the throat and slamming him into the door frame._

 _Too hard._

 _He knew it by the throat under his hand collapsed a little and the way the man gurgled. Peter let him fall and kept moving._

 _The third had been protected from the acid by his friends and he emptied what felt like the whole clip into Peter. Didn't matter. Peter howled as he lunged at the assassin, talons made of bone fusing his hands into fists spiking from his knuckles as he punched wildly, again and again at any weak point he could find._

 _He didn't stop until none of them moved._

 _He rifled through their pockets until he came across a phone. It wasn't locked. Blood made his hand slick. He shook it off. He redialed. He figured it could be a contact, could be the man's girlfriend or sister and that would be hard to explain, but a calm male voice came over the speaker, "It's done?"_

 _"_ _You Coil?" Peter snarled._

 _-Timeline Collapsed-_

The door opened and he looked up from his book.

"Is everything alright in here?" A young nurse with the start of bags under her eyes and carrying an armful of sheets asked softly.

"Expecting trouble?"

"We're keeping an eye out for post-traumatic amnesia, it happens with brain injuries, sometimes they wake up and don't act like themselves." She smiled. "There have been some pretty bizarre cases, but, just checking."

"All good here," Peter said.


	17. Butterfly

**Butterfly**

* * *

Yuka slapped Noriko's hand away from the radio's search knob and flipped through the channels back to the Top 20s. Our driver tried to sneak her fingers back, but just before they grasped their prize they were smacked away again. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the absolutely pathetic pout Noriko had on. Puffed cheeks, scrunched brows, wide eyes, the whole nine yards. If I didn't know any better, she almost looked like she was on the verge of shedding tears.

"But it's _my_ car…"

"Get over it," Yuka huffed. "Not listening to that garbage you listen to."

"What's wrong with oldies?"

"Aside from being _old?_ Bury the seventies already, my god."

I sat in the backseat of the car behind the driver's side so that Yuka could recline and make the ride a little easier on her back and hips. Walking through Dragon City back to the flower shop in daylight was just as welcoming as it had been before, but it almost seemed to reinforce the message: Don't fight and nothing would change.

It rankled, like an itch I wanted to scratch but knew I shouldn't. At the same time, there was the relief. I could see why Lung worked for so many people in Brockton Bay. I could see the appeal. Some part of me _wanted_ to believe everything she said. If Lung had come up with some excuse, handled things a little bit differently last night, I know I would have bought it. I only saw through her because she chose to be transparent. The real question was: why?

Was it because of my father? Or me? I wanted to think Lung was just a bit too confident. 'Time for this city to become my city' she said. Maybe she jumped the gun a bit, already anticipating not having to pretend for the gullible masses anymore.

Maybe I was thinking in circles.

We had to wait for Yuka to get on her shoes and close up her store, with a 'get well' flower arrangement in hand complete with a beautifully decorated card. She'd pointed out the flowers and their meanings, like the pansy for 'caring' as we got underway but then I made the mistake of suggesting music.

I vaguely recalled hearing the tune currently playing before but then again, everything popular tended to sound to same to me.

We drove under an overpass. There was a brief period of shadow and then the music changed.

"Goddammit Nitta!" Yuka cried, exasperated. "Stop!" It was like they were playing footsie with their hands, warding each other away from the control panel with light slaps. Were they adults or kids?

I leaned forward and reached between them. My long limbs worked for me here, allowing me to slip underneath their fight and turn the dial. I defaulted to a station I knew best: classical music. It took a few notes, but I soon recognized the concerto playing. Beethoven, nice.

Both women stopped and looked at me accusingly.

I tapped Noriko's seat, unrepentant. I was not listening to Bieber, thank you. "Eyes forward!"

She did as she was told, facing front with a strange look on her face halfway between trying not to laugh and constipation. Yuka laughed quietly and shifted in her seat.

"Oh." She laid a hand on her stomach and winced. "He's kicking, I think."

The leather grip on the steering wheel squeaked in Noriko's grip. She was trying for nonchalant but there was a real wavering tone of worry to her voice, "Please don't have a baby in my car."

"Well, we are going to the hospital," Yuka retorted faintly.

More creaking but this time I think some of the sound was coming from grinding teeth. "Don't even joke."

"Your car will survive the ordeal, Nitta," Yuka said teasingly. She winced again, arcing her back and moving around in her seat as she rubbed her stomach. "He can stand to learn a little patience though!"

"If anything goes wrong…" Noriko didn't finish the sentence.

"Psshaw," she waved it off. "There's nothing to be worried about, I feel like a broken record. He's fine. I'm fine. We're fine - " Her seat crunched as she leaned forward. "That was the exit you just passed."

"What?" Noriko sat up in her seat, turning her head. "No, it wasn't."

"Uh huh," Yuka pursed her lips. "It totally was, take the next one, actually take it this time."

"It's the one after," came the immediate protest. "After Lincoln Avenue."

"We already passed Lincoln. The overpass was Lincoln. You missed it, take the next one."

In the mirror, Noriko's face scrunched up. I could almost see the mental map hazily forming and turning this way and that before being lit on fire and tossed out as she gave up. "Taylor?" She tried to reach for support.

"I just take the bus usually, but yeah, that overpass was Lincoln." I shot her down.

She slumped. "Next one it is."

"How do you not know where the hospital is?" Yuka demanded. "How long you been here, four years at least. Really?"

Noriko's smile was quietly amused. "Never went."

Yuka's eyes did Olympic grade cartwheels in her head. "I was about to say that wasn't an excuse, but knowing you? It is." She pulled at her seat belt, readjusting it and turned in her seat. "You alright back there?"

I smiled. Not the first time today, I found myself thinking that Yuka was a really good friend, to everyone it seemed. On paper, their friendship seemed just shy of bizarre. Noriko worked for a gang, Yuka owned a flower shop. One was straight to the point with her wording, the other was a chatterbox. I wondered how their friendship even started.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. My legs were stretched out sideways behind the passenger seat because Noriko needed room as well. A bit uncomfortable, but I'd live. I don't think she believed me. Yuka turned fully in her seat and gave me a look I thought of as a 'mom' look, a silent command to spill the beans.

"Really," I said.

She let it go reluctantly. "If you say so."

Noriko took the next exit when it came up, sliding in behind a semi and under Yuka's direction made our way to Whitman Memorial Hospital. We pulled up at the main entrance and I got out first. When Yuka came out of the car, I could see one of the spotters by the door panic and start fumbling with the folded wheelchair beside him.

Yuka waved him off, "Not popping yet, thank you."

"I'll park and catch up," Noriko called after us. I caught myself waving after her and redirected the rebellious hand to my pant pocket.

The front side of the hospital was dominated by Hellenistic columns, sliding glass doors, brick wall and windows. A shining chrome awning above the doors held vertically standing red letters that lit up at night and the top was flat with a helicopter pad but no helicopters. The front desk was a perfect circle in the center of a large hallway with two receptionists at opposite ends with picture perfect smiles.

The front receptionist was wearing pale green scrubs and an unfortunate orange tan. "Can I help you?"

Yuka had a bright smile. "We're hoping to visit Amy Dallon?"

There was some stupidly fast typing and the woman frowned a little, clicking through on her computer. "Ah, I see. She's been moved, second floor, patient room 212."

Noriko came through the sliding glass door then, a bit out of breath and running a hand through her long hair. We waited for her to catch up and out the corner of my eye I saw the receptionist's smile morph into something slightly derisive, as if she caught a whiff of rotten meat. Yuka was like Madison Clements, with an ambiguous look with her red-brown hair, button nose and hazel eyes. You could guess she might be mixed with _something_ , but you wouldn't know what until you heard her name. I was myself, nothing much to look at, but too tall ignore efficiently.

Noriko was paler, and much prettier, than me, but you couldn't mistake her as anything but some flavor of Asian. In Brockton Bay, between Empire 88 neo nazis and ABB, that meant something.

"Just follow the signs, and you'll find the right area. Please make sure your friend here doesn't misread and wander off."

Yuka's smile lost its lustre as Noriko stiffened. "We'll do - " The Boston native began.

Noriko adopted an extremely vapid look, bounced on her toes and got right in the receptionist's face and starting talking fast in Japanese. The woman leaned back, alarmed.

"I - Please move along, you are holding up the line."

What line? I looked behind us to see one person with his face buried in a 'We'll help you quit smoking' brochure.

Yuka dragged Noriko away. "We'll do that, thank you."

No one spoke again until we reached the elevator and the doors closed with a faint chime. Noriko reached out to touch the door, gently, as if testing it. Her fingers curled into claws. She took deep breaths frozen like that, fingernails scraping against metal.

She spoke hard and quick. "I hate people like that."

"I know," Yuka responded sadly. "You can only prove them wrong."

"You don't prove people like that wrong," Noriko spat back. "You force feed it to them, until they choke."

Yuka sighed.

I silently pushed the button to take us up a floor.

If I remembered correctly, the second floor patient rooms was where Peter was the last time I was here. I didn't know if he had gone home yet or if he stuck around but I made a mental note to ask around about him either way. It turned out, I didn't have to. Room 212 was a corner room at the end of a short hallway with the door closed.

Yuka knocked and in a burst of deja vu, Peter answered it. He had on a tight blue T-shirt and jeans, but what caught my attention were the bandages around his forearms that weren't there before.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "And not pizza. We have to stop meeting like this."

"Are you always eating?" I asked him as he stepped aside.

"Growing boy."

My mouth opened but the retort didn't come. Holy shit, how many friends did Amy _have_? "Is this a hospital room or a reunion party?" I muttered to myself once my brain registered the number of visiting people. Yuka bumped me with her hip and I stumbled inside. "Hi?" I tried.

I got a few wary replies. Noriko wandered in past me and took up vigil against an empty corner of the room with her arms folded.

" _Nice_ scarf!" Bao said with a smile. Just like that, the dam broke. Min lurched forward, hastily swallowing.

"Oh my god! That _is_ pretty."

I looked around the room. Min was here munching on a powdered donut from the large opened box that was on the headstand beside her, as well as Kam leaning against the window. Pretty boy Shinta was sitting on Amy's left side and the girl of the hour herself looked exhausted, but happy. Bandages covered her hands completely in a stiff cast and her IV was imbedded into the underside of her forearm. There were a _lot_ of unfamiliar faces as well, most of them in my age range so I assumed they attended school with her at Arcadia.

"David," a gangly teen with short cut hair and a shirt with 'I've kidnapped myself. Give me $100 or you'll never see me again.' on it introduced himself eagerly. He kept glancing at my scarf. No one else spoke up. They just looked at me. I felt like an outsider.

I smiled weakly. "Taylor."

Bao waved me over. I took out his folded scarf from my hoodie pocket and held it out. I figured he would want it back, now that he didn't have to vouch for me anymore.

He glanced at it. "Tch." He reached out and closed my fingers back over it. "Keep it, okay?" he said with a smile.

Yeah, okay.

This crush was not going away anytime soon.

He scooted over to make room for me on the couch. I sat. If my face were a few degrees hotter, it would probably start melting off. There was only one thing I could do: ignore it the best I could.

"Thanks for coming, Taylor," Amy said softly. She was practically glowing as she lifted her hands when Yuka rushed forward with her flowers. "Yuka, I know it looks bad," she started. "But skin grafts."

"That's not how you reassure someone you're okay," the woman choked. "Is everything going to be alright?"

"I volunteered to give up a pound of flesh," Peter said as he flopped down on the floor. "A noble sacrifice!" He flailed around as if he was in his death throes and then stopped. "And Amy owes me a burger."

"Good news is, if I ever need a transplant for something important in the future, my super immune system probably won't kill me." Amy said dryly. "General anesthesia sucks, in recovery I threw up all over Vicky, it was gross."

"How is Lisa doing? Do you know?" I asked cautiously, not sure I wanted to know. I was hoping for unrealistically good news, so I knew I was about to be disappointed.

"Still out of it," Peter sighed. "She's got my old room."

"We don't know when she'll wake up," Kam murmured. Tony was missing from the get-together. Maybe he stopped by earlier and had to go, or just wasn't as close to Amy as the others. Amy's side tables were filled with get well cards and flowers. Someone had even given her a small cactus in bloom. I wondered how many were from people who knew her and how many were from random well wishers who had heard that Panacea was injured.

"Lisa was the girl you were helping?" One of the unfamiliars asked. I had to strain to hear her, she was so quiet. The girl sat in a fold out chair with her legs crossed and hands in her lap, prim and proper, and tense. She had long dark hair like Noriko but with layered bangs.

"Yes," Amy said darkly. "It was."

"Do I want to know what happened?" Yuka looked at everyone in the room, pleading.

"Bomb," I said shortly.

Bao took over for me, motioning for someone to close the door and raising his voice, "Taylor told me yesterday. Coil, used to be an annoying rival, a gnat," he said strongly. "He had a girl implanted with a bomb and waited until Amy tried to help her."

"He detonated it," I finished. "If it wasn't for Snake, you all would be attending a funeral."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"He's an _enemy_ now," Bao continued. "This is what we have to deal with."

"Lung is going to get rid of him," David stated like he was declaring the sky to be blue, but then he added, a lot less confidently, "Right?"

"That is what she's good at," Amy muttered.

"She doesn't have a target," I pointed out, the familiar anger starting to burn. "We don't know where he is, the details of his plans, who else he's got fucking rigged to blow, we don't know any of that."

"Not going to lie," Peter leaned back on his hands. "Kind of want to punch his face in. Sooner, than later."

"Me too," Shinta growled. He bit savagely into a donut.

"So we find out," I said. I'd been sitting on the idea since Snake had asked me, 'and then?' I had no doubt this was just the first of many attacks, but he had already made a critical mistake. _He didn't kill us._ I was going to make him regret that. "I'll need a van and someone to drive it around for a few hours to help me collect..." That I had powers was something Peter already knew. I knew Kam and Shinta were capes. Tony probably was too. Bao? Min? Amy and her New Wave 'no costume' thing fit right in. The only cape of ABB that I've met in costume so far was Lung. I wasn't comfortable being quite that open yet. "Some things. And we can start with any lead we have, unaffiliated capes, disputed areas, abandoned parts of town, anything." I leaned back in my seat before getting the crux of the matter. "We just can't let him know we're looking."

Peter and Bao looked at each other.

"Tagging!" Peter crowed.

"Tagging," Bao repeated with a toothy grin.

"I - I can't believe I'm saying this," Yuka spoke up shakily. "But can't you let _Lung_ handle it?" She spit out. "I'd prefer her going up against a bomb using gang leader than any of you. God, what if he has _parahumans_ on his payroll? How are you going to deal with that? What if you're discovered?"

It was odd. At one time, that would have been me, balking at facing down someone who had powers. "He does have capes," I told her, thinking of the Undersiders. Then I thought of my hornets. I smiled. "Don't care."

"I'm with Taylor," Peter declared. "Bring it."

"I could help - " Amy started but Shinta interrupted her.

" _I'll_ help. You should focus on getting better."

"I can get you the van," the girl with long hair said quietly. Her eyes darted around, resting on a face for a second before moving on and not meeting anyone's eyes.

Min flashed her a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Soo-young. I'm in too, just tell me what you need, huh?"

"What if this messes up Lung's plan?" David leaned forward. "I'll help too, but maybe we should get permission first?"

"Coil has had a day," I snapped. "I'm not going to give him any more time."

"I'll take responsibility," Bao soothed.

My gut clenched at the thought of someone else getting on Lung's bad side because of me. Eyes, ears, lips, nose, hands. There was a faint acidic taste at the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. "It's my idea," I said. "I'll handle Lung."

Standing still and quiet in the corner, brown eyes studying me, was Noriko. I met her gaze as I said that and raised my chin defiantly.

She smiled.

The room broke into murmurs and side conversations after that. Some were pointing out other places that could be searched, others were trying to coordinate travel. The atmosphere was still tense, but it was the electric feeling of anticipation now. I didn't relax, I couldn't. The more cynical part of me pointed out that everyone getting involved now, probably did it because they were satisfied Lung's ire wasn't about to come down on their heads.

Noriko's eyes were sweeping the room languidly, resting on each and every face as if committing it to memory. If anything was going to ruin the fledgling operation, any retaliation or conflicting orders from Lung, it was probably going to originate from her corner.

I moved to get up and Bao looked at me quizzically. I jerked my head in Noriko's direction and his expression cleared.

"Yeah," he said grimly. "Probably a good idea."

I skirted around Kam sitting on the window-sill and a few kids talking animatedly among themselves. They glanced at me as I passed and like with David, glanced at my dragon scarf. Respect I hadn't earned, fear I didn't want to see on their faces. 'I'm not my scarf,' I wanted to tell them. 'Stop looking at it!'

Instead I plastered a small smile on my face. I was trying to make it reassuring but I was not sure if I succeeded. For all I knew, I made a pained grimace. I didn't stop to check.

When I reached Noriko's corner, the first thing I said was, "What are you going to tell her?"

We both knew who 'she' was.

"Handle Lung?" She shot back with a quirked eyebrow. I tried to strain through every ounce of inflection, but I just ended up getting the impression that she was amused and curious. That was more of a relief than I thought it would be. "Don't you like living dangerously."

"She did tell me to surprise her," I tried to say glibly. My 'surprise' came out with a bit of a waver. Relying on Lung's good will did not sit well with me at all. "I figure I get a bit of leeway."

She nodded out at the room. "What do you see when you look at them?"

I raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. "People," I drawled without turning my head.

She gave me an unamused glance, a slight narrowing of her eyes that had me standing a little straighter for no reason I could put my finger on. " _Look._ "

Against my better judgment, and more than a little curious now, I did.

At first, it was just as I said. People. People I knew, like Amy and Peter and Bao, and some I didn't know, students from Arcadia or people whose lives Amy touched in one way or another. It was looking at Peter that opened my eyes. He was frowning where he sat on the floor with deep furrows in his brow and his fingers were flexing against the off-white tiles. He looked intent, like nothing anyone said would sway him.

Bao had a similar look. He was bent over, elbows on his knees as he talked with one of the older boys and pointing at others. The anticipation I noticed before was thrumming in the air. Resolve was there too, those who were pitching in to help meant it.

I started this.

"That's it," Noriko murmured. "That moment when you look out and go 'This. I can make something of this.' That was it, right there."

"You don't use bombs if you're concerned about collateral damage," I hissed back, defensive and on edge. The way she put it sounded almost mercenary and I didn't like the implication. This wasn't a power play. "We're all targets."

"It's for a cause," she agreed easily. Her smile grew along a mischievous slant. "A good one even. I'm sure you can turn them towards more good causes in the future."

"I didn't set out to make myself a leader," I protested. "This?" I held up the bee striped end of my scarf. "I didn't want this." I wanted my Dad to be safe and I wanted my friends. Simple needs, I had thought. Strings were attached to them. I didn't know how or when, but I was going to cut those strings.

Noriko's lips parted slightly as she turned towards the door, about to say something but seemed to change her mind at the last second, "I think it suits you."

I blinked, taken aback. "Thank you?"

I wasn't sure how to take that. Being in a gang suited me? Or was she referring to my dubious ability to point people at a target? I shook my head and shoved the strange comment out of my mind.

"What are you going to tell Lung?" I repeated.

She hummed and slowly nodded, down and to the right and looking away before meeting my eyes again. "Tagging in disputed territory. Nothing to be concerned about, but a little caution isn't a bad idea."

I relaxed slightly. "No, it isn't a bad idea. Thank you." I paused. "Is it going to reflect on you?" It felt like I was passing the burden up the chain. I wouldn't wish what happened to Ibuchi on anyone.

"Ah," she said, her eyes widened a little but it was from pleasant surprise. "Worried about me?" She patted me on the head like I was a puppy, chuckling. I scowled and that got a laugh out of her. "Lung trusts my judgment."

"You mean she doesn't ask too many questions when you lie?" I ventured.

She didn't confirm or deny it, just shrugged with one arm. "Will you need me to get home?"

"No, I -" I shook my head. I had planned on taking the bus home, but the reversal felt odd. The stark difference between her earlier 'Am I your driver?' snark and now, where she was just waiting patiently for an answer was almost surreal. "I'm fine," I said, cringing as the words came out of my mouth.

She noticed my discomfort. I wasn't sure what I was expecting from her but her nonchalant, "You'll get used to it," wasn't it.

"Not sure I want to," I replied dryly.

"But you will." She looked me over then, flicking her eyes up and down and frowned slightly, like she found something she wasn't sure of and then turned her head towards the group in the room, but didn't look at them. It was more like she was seeing something else, a thousand yard stare of someone lost inside their own head. "Lung has a saying about things like this. 'This is your springtime,' you know?"

I did know. I could almost imagine Lung's warm hand on my shoulder like it had been the first night I went out in costume. "What does that mean?"

"Who knows?" She snorted. "Growth, freedom, opportunity, maybe a cleansing from the past? I like to think it means doing what you can only do now, now, while you can. Lung is many things, but she is no poet." She looked at the room again and her expression softened. "If she knew though, I think she would approve."

"If she knew," I echoed. "Which she won't, regardless."

"I don't report to her," Noriko said with a roll of her eyes as she opened the door. "Do what you want. Springtime, remember?"

She left the room and I was left making my way back to Bao with a nervous hold on my scarf.

"We good?" He asked.

"I think so."

I hoped so.


	18. Interlude, Le Cong Bao

**Interlude, Le Cong Bao**

* * *

"What the shit…" His name was Le Cong Bao, 16 years old, Winslow High student, blood type O negative and those were some motherfucking huge bees. "The fuck is...where'd you find those!?"

Those couldn't be local honey bees. They couldn't be. Shit, maybe they were local, where else would she get them? Killer bees would be icing on the fucking Brockton Bay cake. Fuck. That's it. He was moving.

Bao was also a gang member with a bit of an identity problem.

He _wanted_ to be one of those upstanding citizens because sitting down and thinking about the fact that people were scared of you made his stomach sink.

But that was the exact reason why he didn't sit down and think about it.

In the heat of the moment, having the power to say something and have people listen was like, being on top of the world. He could _ruin_ them if he felt like it, or worse. He usually didn't, because he wasn't a dick, but knowing that he could…

Usually didn't, didn't mean never. In his eyes, it was no less than they deserved.

The switchblade in his pocket was for opening mail. If he got into a knife fight, something had gone very, very wrong somewhere. He kept it on him, just in case. He had the muscle memory for drawing a snarling dragon with spray paint just as his fingers still remembered how to play scales on a piano ( _not that it mattered because his keyboard was busted_ ). He'd do anything for his people, _his_ people, if you weren't that: out of sight, out of mind.

Very few people had it good in this city. You had to pick your battles.

ABB was his people. The woman down the street escaping from an abusive home. The man struggling to find work with his two daughters. Even the crackhead on the corner who was lucid enough in the mornings to completely fleece him at Texas Hold'em, all of them, ABB.

He could work through every problem in his neighborhood one at a time with his own two hands, try to, or he could point a dragon at it. The woman was now a waitress at a Chinese restaurant downtown. The man came by Thursdays now, unsure, emptying the trash cans into the modified pickup with quiet relief. The crackhead...was still a crackhead and totally cheating at cards but at least Bao was positive he wouldn't keel over from a bad mix one day.

The drug pushers had standards.

He didn't know when Taylor Hebert had become one of his people. The dumpster, maybe? He could still remember the smell, the gunk he got on his hands trying to pry the top open and dawning realization that someone was _trapped_ in there.

( _He'd been trapped like that before. Didn't want to talk about it._ )

It wasn't like he was going to turn her away when she started hanging around him either, it would be a dick move, like kicking a puppy for licking you. And what the fuck, man, _nothing_ happened to whoever sick fucks locked her in there in the first place? What kind of fucked up school was he going to? He told himself he had to keep an eye on her. He put the word out, because he couldn't be everywhere (and might be sleeping in) and before he knew it, people were finding their own reasons to stick their necks out.

( _He saw her first!_ )

Sometimes they got burned, the three bitches and their hanger ons but maybe...he didn't know. He blinked and it was a full blown Monday routine, and little shy almost-there-nope-it's-gone-now smiles in the hallway when he bothered to show up to class.

She had a dragon scarf of her own now, yellow and black with bee stripes at the ends.

He thought he'd been doing her a favor.

"Gift. From, uh, Lung." Taylor had on her adorable little lopsided smile, like she wasn't sure she even should be smiling and covering nearly the entire length of her index finger was a single monster bee. Two more were crawling out of the glass jar she had them in and took to the air when the van bumped. He leaned back in his seat when they buzzed angrily. "They're safe!"

Peter's mouth was hanging open, half eaten Twinkie forgotten in the wrapper. It was the three of them in the back of the van and the sun was just starting to set, the kind of lazy late afternoon with a crisp breeze that made you want to take a nap. "Spiders?" Peter asked suddenly.

"Dragonflies, crickets, butterflies," she nodded in the general direction of her 'shopping list,' the notebook with a page full of her scribbles next to her. "All of it."

"Lung got you giant bees?" Bao said aloud in disbelief. "Lung got you giant bees. H-How many?"

"Only fifty-three," Taylor answered a bit despondently.

If you squinted and tilted your head just right, it might look like Lung wasn't the only one who didn't believe in 'overkill.'

The van bumped over another pot hole, bouncing the three teens. The driver had his music on loud and energetic, spontaneously mumbling out lyrics and beating his thumbs on the steering wheel. It was a very obvious display. Two of his passengers had dragon scarves, so he wouldn't be asking any questions and he didn't want them to think he was eavesdropping.

Almost like being royalty. He wanted to say something, who was he fooling? But didn't. Maybe it was good the guy was trying not to pay attention. It meant he wasn't noticing the three inch bee on the back of his seat and driving off the road.

"And you control them?"

"More than that," her dark eyes seemed to light up. "I can see what they see, what they hear and smell and taste, and bugs are everywhere. How many people notice the bugs around them, exactly? It's…" She looked down, chewing on her lip as she hefted the bee on her finger in front of her eyes. "It's an idea, and it might work."

"What's your range?" Peter scarfed down his Twinkie and Bao felt his stomach twinge. Great. Now he was hungry.

"About a," she paused with an uncertain look on her face. "A block? More than a block now. Huh." Just as absently, she leaned out of her seat to crank the window down and it squeaked. A few dragonflies flew in and settled on her backpack.

"Wanna swap powers?" Peter grinned at her, sprawled out in his seat. Underneath his dark sweatshirt with an ouroboros on it, his body mass was shifting. "Dropping spiders on people sounds like the greatest thing ever."

For a moment, Taylor looked a bit jealous. "Tempting," she tried to shrug it off and smiled weakly. "Really tempting."

Bao looked down at his boots for a moment. Taylor had, _very reluctantly_ , told him about her powers. Peter had outed her first, with the logic of 'no ones gives a shit.' Her counterpoint had been Coil. Peter had gotten very quiet after that.

Part of him thought that the reason Lung liked Taylor so much was because she was a parahuman, because that was what you'd expect. Parahuman gangs tended to elevate parahumans. But Lung seemed to get her kicks from not doing what people expected, a real cut off her nose to spite someone type, like the very thought of conforming was offensive. The best way to get her to do something was to say to her face that she wouldn't do it.

( _He wouldn't say he abused that quirk of hers, but he pretty much abused that quirk of hers. Carefully, and not too often, or she might realize she had it._ )

No, Taylor got a dragon scarf because of what she did or who she was, of that he was sure. He wished he could say that meant Taylor was safe. Once you were in ABB, really in it with the curtain pulled back and the higher ups knowing your name, you answered to Lung.

And the dragon gave only _one_ warning.

"How much are we aiming for?" The trunk behind him was lined in cardboard with oil paper covered the windows from anyone who might catch a glimpse. Soo-young lived up to her word and got them a van, but how she'd done it worried him a little.

"At least one of everything," Taylor replied. A pair of horse flies buzzed in, followed by a single butterfly that nestled in her hair and spread glittering blue wings.

"How much you want?" He asked her with a smile. He did have a Sunday evening to kill. He could spend it worse ways than collecting bugs for a girl.

Taylor looked at him with fierce dark eyes and wicked smirk, " _All_ of everything."

Alright, he could see why Lung liked her.

"We find his base," she continued. "And we smash it."

Bao stretched his arms back above his head. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

He was thirteen when he first met Lung. He'd heard of her, a woman in red with scales. The Vietnamese immigrants called her 'Giao Long' like they were sharing a folk tale of mythic dragons, bringers of rain, with all the caution and wary respect you would give a crocodile that had stomped into your home. Things would be changing, everyone knew.

For worse, probably.

It was already bad enough. He would wake up in the middle of the night to gun shots, or someone screaming. You locked your door three ways and kept an eye on it, tense, waiting for the knock. Boards and bolts kept most of the trouble out, keep your head down and you could skate on by. Illusion of safety.

With Lung, you didn't even have that.

He'd heard voices downstairs late at night. He stopped on his way to the bathroom and turned back. Mother was at one side of the room, back to the stairs like she was blocking it with her head down and subtle quiver to her shoulders. Looming by the door was a tall woman in a flowing royal purple dress, negligently swinging a bladed fan with a gold dragon motif from her fingertips and the narrow eyed Chinese dragon mask concealing her face. She walked off a theatre stage, he thought, in the middle of a tale when there were still dynasties, emperors, figurines of jade and clay, myths come to life.

 _"Me_ …" he whispered, clutching the wall.

Giao Long heard him somehow, shifting her head in his direction. He froze.

His mother snapped around, breathing in sharply. "Bao!" She hissed. "Go back upstairs."

He almost obeyed, halfway through turning before he swore under his breath. He promised himself he wasn't going hide away again (and pretend he didn't feel like throwing up when she covered the bruise with make up and carefully smiled. Good fucking riddance to trash that called himself his father).

He turned back around and shoved his hands into his pajama pant pockets. "Nah."

The fan opened with a 'schnikt' sound that made him flinch. "You know who I am?" The woman hefted the fan delicately, as if it was made of fine paper and let him see that it had sharp edges. Her accent was thick and just made her seem that much more out of place."Boy?"

He almost said the Vietnamese name for her, but managed to choke off 'Giao' at the last moment. " _Long._ "

Her gaze pierced him, calculating. "Aah," she drew out.

He balled his hands into fists in his pockets. He spoke clearly, with each word stressed through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

His mother turned her face upwards and started to mutter under her breath in Vietnamese, he couldn't hear it all, but he heard enough to know she was probably cursing him out for being an idiot.

And he was being a complete and utter moron because he'd been there, huddled in a hastily opened Endbringer shelter as the alarms sounded and Lung violently claimed the city, and the deaths had yet to stop.

But he was keeping his promise to himself. That was what mattered.

"I made your mother an offer," Giao Long said idly. "I _will_ hear the answer."

"Yes, alright," his mother blurted out, wringing her hands and carefully not looking at him. "Fine. _Fine._ "

Giao Long snapped her fan shut, loud, "Good." She set the fan, golden dragon roaring up at the ceiling, on the center table. "Tomorrow."

She left without looking back.

The door swung shut on silence.

"What did you do?" Bao asked quietly.

His mother turned away from him, palm covering her face.

"What did you do?" He repeated, louder. "Why was Giao Long here? What did you do?"

She turned back, slightly and reached out for the fan in front of them with trembling fingers. Her hand didn't make it, stopping short and falling on one of their wooden coasters. She lifted her index finger and let it fall heavily. The coaster withered to dust.

His mouth opened but the words stuck to his tongue.

Oh.

He stumbled backwards against the stairs, aching pain starbursting in his ankles and his tailbone as he collided with a step, and sat there.

"You'll have everything you wanted," she said eventually, hopefully.

"You'll be working for _Long_ ," he said.

"It won't be much different," she continued, half to herself. "A few errands and not asking too many questions." Her words all but confirmed how they kept the bills paid and food on the table after his father had walked out, answers to a question he hadn't thought to ask because he was stupid and couldn't see what was in front of his face.

"What if you mess up and she gets mad and takes it out on you?"

"That won't happen," she said sharply. After a tense moment, her face softened. "I will be careful."

Not knowing what else to do, he nodded. "Okay."

It was more than just 'errands.' The dragon had a vested interest in taking care of her things and had decided she needed advisors. Delegates. Lieutenants. Le Thi Hien was one of five at a round table.

Was.

His mother was killed two years later, Empire. And there were four.

After the funeral, he had gotten an unmarked package left by a squat man under orders to pound on the door until he came out. He hadn't gone to school in two weeks, hadn't done much of anything but sleep. It took him three days after that to even open the package and out spilled a crimson scarf decorated on one end with the same gold dragon and the other Chinese characters. He had spread that end out on the table, squinting and running his fingers over the fabric shapes. He'd taken it to the old Chinese man a few streets over, the one that always had a frown on his face and called him 'Duck.' He'd practically begged for help.

Maybe it was the news that he was an orphan now, or he just looked pathetic but the man took the scarf and read the words out loud: _Remembrance is the greatest treasure._

"Who gave you this?" The man frowned.

Bao took the scarf back and experimentally wrapped it around his neck. It hung comfortably. He held up the decorated end, glittering gold. "Lung."

The burning question was _why?_

Over a year later and he still didn't know the answer. Why the responsibility? Why the trust? Why? He hadn't had the courage to ask and after a few months, it slowly stopped mattering. He got pieces of the puzzle, hidden in what Lung did or what she said. Things like cherishing springtime.

Because come autumn, the leaves were stained red.

A dragon was entitled to its secrets, and a woman her regrets.

Bao still had that bladed fan, with the gold dragon roaring defiantly at the heavens.

* * *

"Hey." Bao knocked on the metal ladder of the fire escape. He had his gloves on, fingerless with the knuckles capped in metal which made the ladder ring. "You ready?"

Browbeat ( _on the clock it was Browbeat, like Kam was Durga and Masayuki was Go_ ) tilted his head as a few more bone plates clicked together. His blonde hair was darkened to a blue-black with a borrowed face that could be anything from ambiguous Asian to Hispanic. He held out a fist, inspected the bone slivers jutting out and put it down.

"Yeah." Browbeat was armored with his own ribs, interlocking flat enamel scales on his chest and tearing through the shins of his jeans. His 'mask' was a gift he probably wheedled out of Amy, a bone spiked helmet that framed his face. Bao didn't think he needed it, being a tough son of a bitch anyway, but he thought it was a perception thing. An intimidation thing.

You don't fuck with someone wearing their own bones, capiche?

Browbeat idly swung the newest edition to his war form, a serrated tail. He looked up, the feral grin that was all Peter on his face. He put a hand on the brick wall next to him, and bounced on his toes.

"Nothing happens to Taylor, got it?" Bao said.

Browbeat looked at him. He wasn't one of Bao's, a snake instead of a dragon but Snake wasn't here. He was.

"Got it." He scaled the wall with just the palms of his hands, brick dust falling in trails in his wake.

Bao picked up his aluminium baseball bat and rested it on his shoulder.

The meeting place was at the edge of ABB territory, riding the line between buildings with dragon tags and the grey zone, south of the Boardwalk. There really were only three places for a shitbag like Coil to hide; where no one was, or where the Empire was. And if he was hiding within ABB, they had a really big problem.

He spotted Durga and Uber first, at the edge of the group, their experience making them stand out. Where the other kids were talking, nervously moving or excited, Uber was double checking his equipment ( _at least one would blow up on him, but he insisted_ ) and Durga still and quiet.

'Hachi' was still too, matching the description Lung had gave him of a dark insectoid costume but mostly he recognized the long, curly hair and the introverted way she stood. A cloud of the bugs they'd collected hovered above them in a background drone. Bees, dragonflies, moths, mosquitoes. On the ground scuttled beetles, crickets and spiders, Brown Recluses and Black Widows crawled over Hachi's feet.

Hachi straightened and within seconds, each and every insect vanished into the shadows. Everyone stopped talking. They wore ABB colors and symbols, he smiled.

Bao tapped his bat on the curb. "Ready?" he asked her.

One of her giant hornets had stayed behind, perched on the top of her mask like the jewel on a crown. She didn't have her scarf to set her apart, she didn't need it. "Yes." Her voice came out a bit distorted from the plastic. "I'm ready."


	19. Scorpion

**Scorpion**

* * *

I got a strange feeling as I stood there in my costume, looking over everyone through a pair of dragonfly eyes. The spider silk was soothing to be in, and even better was my mask, as if not showing the world my face was my comfort zone. Still, it didn't do much to alleviate the slight chill I felt working down my back. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was more like some part of my hind brain and unconscious mind had recognized that this was the point of no return. For better or worse, I was making my first move.

I didn't give the feeling much thought beyond that. There was work to do.

The plan was simple. We had a group of ABB teenagers wearing their colors and symbols and whatever was the normal garb for 'tagging.' Because that was exactly what they would be doing, tagging. At most, they were the cover, the distraction, and I really didn't want anyone without powers accidently knocking on Coil's front door. A few of the kids knew what we were looking for, the ones I saw at the hospital like David with his 'Stupidity is not a crime. So you're free to go' T-shirt.

Most of them were just there for tagging. That had been Bao's idea, the more people doing exactly what we were supposed to be looking like we were doing, the better chance we had of going unnoticed. I hadn't been comfortable with the thought of sending people out not knowing what kind of danger they could be in, but he had a point.

"Every time, there is always the chance of coming across an independent with a grudge or Empire," he had said.

"They don't go for the kill though," I'd countered.

He'd quirked an eyebrow, like I had said something strange. "Don't they?"

I had swallowed, coughing a little and glanced at him through the yellow tint covering my eyes. "I see."

"You saw for yourself, this isn't a game."

Yes. I saw.

ABB had a surprisingly organized way of going about vandalizing buildings with spray paint. They split into assigned groups, each with a map of Brockton Bay and their area circled in pink highlighter. Everyone had their cell phones with full contact lists and speed dial. My map, along with Shinta's and Kam's had red markered lines instead, depicting a patrol route that cut through all of our designated tagging areas. No one was supposed to linger. Check out a spot and move on.

I saw Soo-young, with my dragonflies. My human eyes saw a brazen young woman with torn jeans and bare midriff chewing bubblegum where my insects saw the mousy, quiet girl who visited Amy and volunteered to get us the van. Illusion or perception altering, I thought, and deliberately didn't look at her with my own eyes.

ABB had a lot of capes, I thought. Enough to bury the heroes two to one at least. The local Nazis had more.

"Where's Browbeat?" I asked. The crowd was starting to segregate into their groups; Kam and Uber had north first with his detecting tools, Shinta had west as just another tagger in a bold green long shirt but with the ability to blink in and out of buildings and I had south, towards the Empire's line in the sand.

I had to pause for a moment. Using Peter's cape name was beyond weird.

Bao's eyes shifted lazily as he swung his bat up over his shoulder. "Around."

"Uh huh," I drawled. I reached out to my bugs. A mosquito was hiding in the folds of everyone's clothes and about a third of my hornets were sedately scuttling across nearby walls. One of my moths found him, high up on the roof of a complex across the street, or what I hoped was him seeing as the outline I was getting looked nothing like the all American jock. There were dark areas, but most of the figure was dominated by a light contrast that looked like scales and spikes formed into armor, a dragon knight.

Was that, was he _wearing_ armor? I didn't point him out, just placed a light colored moth on his back and walked it over the ridged plates with my eyes closed and senses focused. I found a gap, the armor protruding out of warmth, skin with hard scabs around the protrusions.

That was bone.

 _Peter was wearing his own bones as armor._

There I was, getting jealous over his power again.

I could think of a half dozen reasons why he was up there and not down here with the rest of us, but there was only one reason I cared about.

"Is he going to cause trouble?" I cringed even as I said it. It came out too harsh. I was more on edge than I thought. "Beyond, you know, being P - him." I tried to smooth it over.

Bao had his bat across his broad shoulders behind his neck, both hands hanging off the ends casually. "Not start, end." he said as he cast his eyes around. "Form up!" He called to the group. "Let's head out, people."

He caught eyes with Kam, inclining his chin slightly. Her face was shadowed with a curtain of her black hair and a blood red mask. Her costume was a deep purple loose fabric like a grecian muse with how it left a shoulder bare and gathered at her waist with a gold threaded sash. She went barefoot, drawing comparisons in my mind to Lung's ability to walk off broken glass and nails on the street, and showing off gold anklets.

Her response was to reach out and lightly swat Uber upside the head, jerking him out of the tinkering he was doing to one of his gadgets.

Uber and Leet had been the dynamic duo of Brockton Bay. They ran their web show for years and it was always the two of them. Villains, but they had been B-list at best. The worst they did was assault dubiously identified prostitutes from one of their stupid games, and they got such a backlash from the internet that they never did anything like it again. I wouldn't say they had been harmless, but it was still jarring to realize: Leet was gone.

Everyone here? All the capes, if Coil had his way, there might be a lot more Leets. And no small part of me pointed out, that Lung wanted the city too. I remembered the sirens and the state of emergency and the deaths when the dragon had first come to Brockton Bay. If _Lung_ had her way - I couldn't think about that right now. Coil was hiding for a reason. He couldn't take on the ABB or the E88. He probably couldn't even take on the Protectorate.

Coil was simple. He could be dealt with.

I had no idea how anyone was going to deal with Lung.

High-powered rifle shot to the head?

And _pray_ it doesn't miss.

Our group gathered around us, people I didn't know and some faces I did even if I couldn't recall their names, if I ever learned them. The excitement was still there; there was wariness too. Bao wasn't great at keeping that certain kind of intensity off his face and me in my costume got more than a few of hesitant looks. Or maybe that was caused by my bugs.

"Okay, we'll go down this way…" As I listened to Bao's voice fading away, I turned to one of the members of my group, who immediately focused on something more interesting on the ground.

"So, which way should we go?" I knew my way around Brockton Bay, but this was a first for me. I hadn't read the 'How to Tag for Dummies' book. The brief look that was shared told me enough; they were expecting me to know where to go. Was it always the capes who took the lead role in something like this when there wasn't someone with obvious authority like Bao?

I kept silent. If I had learned anything, it was that I had to keep a confident image. So I counted to ten as the others traded glances, before one boy raised a hand and I turned to him, "Yes?"

"What about-" A curse cut through the air and my bugs were the first to pick up Bao. I blinked behind my mask, wasn't he going with another group?

"Motherfucking, think I broke my toe…" I felt a small grin cross my lips as I turned to face Bao as he looked up, "Oh hey, good, you didn't head out yet. I'm going with you, make sure things go smoothly."

"Uh, if you're sure." I replied, and Bao nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure. So, you decided where to go yet?" Bao looked over the group and I turned my head to nod at the teenage boy who was about to speak.

He started, but rallied quickly, "I was thinking...what about that big office wall over on Martins? The place practically faces E88 territory and it's pretty accessible, so you could throw up a pretty big tag there."

"Martins?" Bao mused, "Shit, you could put up a fucking mural on that wall. What do you think Hachi? Go for it? Or do you want to hit somewhere smaller?"

Huh? I guess it was 'my idea, my plan?' On one hand, that did seem like something I should be doing, but doing something smaller seemed safer and it would take less paint...I weighed the options carefully for a moment. I didn't want to do something rash like-

"Okay, sure." I blurted out just to fill the awkward silence.

"Cool, let's get moving then." And just like that, the entire group was heading north-west. If I remembered correctly, Martins meant Martin's Road, so that meant one of the office-buildings. Mentally, I shrugged. Martins was visible but it was on the edge of territory that could officially be called 'Protectorate'. Nothing was going to happen if we didn't start anything.

As our group turned a corner, I realized just how depressing that thought was.

If anyone asked me a week ago how gang members went around tagging buildings, I would have guessed that maybe they drove everyone. Or walked the grid-like maze of Brockton Bay's backstreets. That really shows how little I knew as my little group of ABB _gang members_ patiently waited at a bus stop, _got on the bus_ and Bao passed the horrified bus driver an even hundred while I marched a living carpet of bugs onto the vehicle.

Awkward didn't even begin to describe how I felt taking a seat at the back.

Some twenty odd minutes later, I was staring up at the blank stretch of almost pristine concrete bricks that made up most of downtown's office buildings.

"I don't think we have enough paint." I muttered. It didn't even look like it had been re-painted, much, and you couldn't go down a street without finding areas that had been visibly painted over to conceal dragons and swastikas. It never seemed to do much good as anything but an invitation to tag it again. Band-aid solutions.

"Eh, so long as we keep to a theme, we don't have to paint all the way up. Like a scroll, I guess." Bao suggested as bags were opened to reveal spray paint cans, "Keep us covered, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded, spreading my insects over as wide an area as I could. I didn't want to get jumped by some roaming Empire, or get caught by the cops. That last part scared me more than the Empire; I could fight the Empire, but I wasn't going to fight cops.

As the hiss and clacking of spray-cans filled the air, I kept watch, right up until my bugs detected something fast. My dragonflies and hornets were trackers and could see reasonably well, in the day time. At the speed it was going, I was at more of a disadvantage in the dark than I would like. Too fast to get images, just scents, but the displaced air alone was enough to tell me that something had flown in and landed nearby, down an alleyway.

"I just picked up something, I'm going to take a look." I called to Bao, who nodded and waved a hand. My insects picked up Peter...Browbeat, I should really remember to call him that when masked, coming in hot.

I saw her first through my mosquitos, an image of salt smell perched up on the wall overlooking the street and I oriented my dragonflies and moths for a better image. She was hunched over her knees, watching me approach behind her visor and rolling a dark colored marble in her hands while leaning against her hover board. The shadow I spotted overhead earlier.

"I know you are there," I called out.

"I was going to wait until you weren't...busy. How'd you- nevermind, got something for you," Hanabi smiled tightly. She shifted and a packet fell to the ground in front of me. I kept my 'eyes' on her as I picked it up. A map of Brockton Bay. I unfolded it and was greeted with dark x's crossed over sections of the city. There was feminine handwriting in the margins and notes hovering around some of the marks with descriptions such as 'vehicles' or 'personnel.'

"What's this?"

"We're not blind, you know," Hanabi said. "Sure, we - we may not get everything," she continued, a light quickness to her voice. "But the city's still standing, because of us, the heroes. Counts for something, right? Please tell me it counts for something."

I bit my lip.

"Those are the places we observed activity attributed to Coil," she continued, mechanically like she was rehearsing. She leaned back and hugged her hoverboard closer. "Thought it might help, you know?"

I folded the map back up. "If you knew this, why didn't you act on it?"

Hanabi gestured at her costume, with her red overcoat, green pants and yellow shirt. "Obvious. We could, yeah, invade multiple spots across the city with like, fifteen people, with just suspicions and no evidence. And not letting moles in the PRT know."

A smile tugged at my lips in spite of myself. "Touche."

"Not saying we're going to do nothing," she smiled back weakly. "It's just going to take a bit." She looked up at the night sky. "Lung still playing the good guy?"

There was the sound of crinkling paper and I eased my grip on the map. "Not anymore."

Hanabi sighed. _"_ _Yup_." She held her breath for a few seconds on the next one before letting it all out in an explosive rush. "Yeah, for what it's worth? Not too late to back out, right? She likes looking civil."

"She's not interested in looking civil," I replied evenly. I said my next words slowly, almost trying to impress how important they were on the Ward. "After Coil, Lung is taking the city."

Hanabi went still for a moment. "Oh, that's all kinds of bad. _Massive_ badness. I'm gonna go...report in." My stomach lurched as she swung her hoverboard down underneath her feet with a practised movement, firing it up with a press of her heels and slipping off the roof of the building on to it. I felt like a traitor, in spite of everything. I also felt lighter, as if I had just unloaded a burden off my chest. "Miss Militia says hi, by the way. And good luck."

I nodded tersely. "Thank you."

"Don't die."

She lifted off, rising quickly until my human eyes couldn't her anymore against the backdrop of a clear night sky. My insects followed the movement and slight contrast in the moonlight farther until her outline was lost to me entirely. 'Don't die' was pretty good advice, all things considered. Right up there with the 'don't get killed' I was admittedly a little fond of.

Map in hand, I walked back out of the alley. I re-positioned my insects as I went, stretching to the limits of my ability and mapping out every nook and cranny. Above us, below us. The people in my range that I'd marked with a bug stood out like pieces on a chessboard and pressed against my consciousness every time their position changed.

It was like I was listening to white noise. I tried to ignore it the best I could, or compartmentalize it so that everything wasn't taking up the same amount of my attention. It was turning out to be a bit of a mixed success.

Bao was putting the finishing touches on an angry red dragon outlined in black, a flashlight at his feet and baseball bat leaning up against the brick wall.

"Who was it?" He threw over his shoulder.

"Hanabi." I unfolded the map and called fireflies to me. I formed a circle of them and lit up, illuminating not only the crosses but the names of the places they were by. I looked over it, a small headache pulsing in between my eyes. They crosses weren't evenly spaced but there wasn't any reason why they would be either. Crime in this city sprung up organically, formed from a mixture of desperate people and little oversight.

Several of the crosses were in old Merchant territory, and the only reason why it had been Merchant territory in the first place was due to being prime real estate for drug dens: not too far from downtown but the connecting alleyways were beelines to some run-down parts of the city.

Bao's finger stabbed into my line of sight, circling a few crosses. "Empire territory."

So he was right in the middle, I thought, which made sense considering he wanted to turn the two gangs against each other. He was probably poking at the Empire, just like he had sent the Undersiders to poke Lung. Draw them both to the center and watch the fireworks. Simplicity itself.

"This what I think it is?"

"Leads," I confirmed. It was a pretty safe bet that none of the x's were marking the spot of his base, but it had to be close. I didn't want to actually stumble into one of Coil's criminal operations - or maybe I did. I memorized the marks closest to us.

Maybe I did.

"I'm going to need Browbeat," I said as I finished folding the map back into its small square, the innocent 'Welcome to Brockton Bay!' on the front.

"What for?" Bao asked with slightly raised eyebrows.

How to say 'hello' in Chinese wasn't the only thing I learned at Lung's criminal get-together. Some of it was volunteered, like Cho's insight on what separates villains from criminals, and some I figured out for myself. Most of it came down to money, who had it and how much; how to get more of it. It quite literally did make their world go round. A villain, with the right set of powers, could get by on raw power and intimidation, or stealth and subterfuge, taking what they wanted but criminal enterprises were built on the green.

I wasn't sure which one Coil was, a villain or a criminal, but the simple facts were: he had a tinker, who would need materials. He hired people like the Undersiders, paid them. He had enough connections, or influence, to worm into the PRT. It spoke of money, and it had to come from somewhere.

I would find him eventually, but in the meantime I liked the idea of putting him on the defensive. Smoke in the fox hole.

"I'm going to need him to cause trouble," I muttered.

Bao's head tilted slightly as the corner of his mouth twitched up. "Where we hitting?"

"Browbeat and I," I corrected him, "are going to check something out."

"What?" Bao gaped. "But -"

"Backup," I said sternly. I directed a cricket to crawl up my leg and side to where I could scoop it off and place it on Bao's scarf. "I can take a bullet in my costume," it would hurt like a bitch most likely, but it had survived a field test, "and you know how much punishment Browbeat can shrug off."

 _That you can't,_ I left unsaid.

"We're with you," he shot back. He sounded hurt. "All of us."

"That's what the cricket is for. It sings, that's your cue." I was taking the dragonflies and hornets, I had too few of them as it was, but I split my mosquitos and decided to leave a few moths and fireflies to lead the way.

"To come to your rescue?" He snorted.

"I don't want anyone hurt, but that doesn't mean -" I won't use you. I bit my lip and resisted the urge to knead my forehead through my mask. I tried not to, but I thought of Noriko's words. "Once I'm sure of it, when we find something we can use, I'll need everyone."

Bao looked at me, his eyes slightly narrowed and a small frown.

"So sue me for wanting everyone home in one piece," I hissed, starting to get angry. "Don't you?"

He looked away. "Yeah," he breathed, his eyes downward. "Yeah. Sorry, I just," his fingers balled into fists then flexed. He rolled his shoulders and peered up at me through his eyelashes. "Don't leave me too far behind, okay?"

I opened my mouth, to say what I wasn't sure, but before it came out he was already walking off waving his right hand in a large parabolic arc. I felt the moth on Peter's back catapult into the air. I turned around just in time to see him land heavily on the road in the heroic three-point landing. Several of the teens behind me started clapping.

"Show off," I muttered. The bastard wasn't even breathing hard from keeping up with a goddamn bus.

Browbeat had an unfamiliar face that could be any vaguely Asian ethnicity, but his eyes and voice were still the same. The part that got me was that he had an honest to god _crown of bones_ on his head. It was like he took the word 'villain' and ran with it all the way across the finish line. It was loud, but not really flashy, a look that drew attention not because he wanted it, but because he really didn't give a shit. Peter, in a nutshell.

I went over what I wanted to accomplish and then we headed out.

The marks on the map weren't guaranteed things, most likely because whatever activity had gone on there was of a transient nature. The first two were busts, nothing but empty street and run down buildings to them. The only positive was that keeping Bao updated with our progress using my moths and fireflies wasn't as complicated as I thought it would be. I knew where every bug in my range was in relation to me, like I knew the positioning of my hand. Translating that was like blinking, I just did it.

My jogging routine was also fucking _vindicated_. Without it, I would have collapsed five blocks back, no question. Peter would have to carry me.

"Hold on," I put my hand up slightly and Browbeat walked into it, coming to a slow stop. Nearby was the place, the start of all the bullshit at school with Emma, me, the ABB, on the edge of ABB territory that bled into Empire, a three-way intersection shaped like a T with one of the arms a one-way street. I made my way there, a short detour because I had to see it. My insects mapped the alleyways three streets over and Peter's heavy footsteps echoed off the brick walls behind me.

The roads were clear, no dumpsters or vans blocking the way. The chalk outline had probably long since been washed away by rain. It looked like just any other street. If it weren't for the road signs, Pepperidge crossing Church, I might have thought it was the wrong place. I don't know what I expected to feel as I looked down at the pavement; I hoped for closure of some sort. Perhaps that was exactly what I got because standing there, I just felt like it was over. Relief.

"Alright, I'm done here."

"You...didn't do anything?" Peter mumbled.

"Long story." I thought about telling him, what happened here and what it meant but that felt a bit too much like baring my heart and soul. And this was personal. No matter how I dealt with everything moving forward, I was at least moving forward. That was far more than I could say for Emma.

On the trail end of that thought, one of my roaming insects abruptly disappeared. My steps slowed. My immediate response was to send a mosquito in the general direction of where I'd lost the first one, making a sweep of the area and when that eventually winked out of my control as well, I stopped.

Browbeat caught on immediately. "Someone there?" he whispered.

"Or something," I replied back just as quietly. There were no streetlights here. Everything was draped in shadow and I was completely reliant on the moon and what I could tease out using my dragonflies and moths ultraviolet sight. I angled my bugs as I started walking again and there, at a far corner on an arm of the T was a spot of...nothing.

No light, ultraviolet or otherwise. The mosquitos smelled nothing from the silhouette, there was no heat, it was as alien to me as it was to my insects. A standing corpse. I wanted away from it. I picked up my pace and sent another mosquito, focusing on it, hoping for a clue.

It died.

There wasn't even any pain.

My breath hitched, once. Peter glanced at me and growled, a reverberating rumble that bubbled up from his chest as he turned around, walking backwards as he scanned the street. He lashed his bone tail back and forth, sparks flew where it crashed against the pavement.

"Don't," I said. Maybe it was the equivalent of a bug zapper super power, only capable of being the bane of gnats and mosquitos everywhere. However, I wasn't about to test that.

Whatever it was stepped away from the shadow of the buildings, its 'head' turning in our direction. Under the moon, I could see more through faceted eyes but not much. It was a person, that I was sure of, but it was hard to see through the cloud of inky mist clinging to them.

Shadow Stalker?

That was the only parahuman I knew of with a power that was described as a shadowy mist form, a former vigilante that joined the Wards a few months ago. I didn't call out to her for two reasons: she had a bit of a brutal reputation that I wanted no where near my ABB group and second, I wasn't completely positive it was even her. Where were her iconic crossbows?

My stomach sank as the shadow started following us.

I pulled out the folded map from the back pocket on my costume where I stashed things like my can of pepper spray and epi pens. If we wanted to lose her, and I did, we would have to make some detours. Wordlessly, I showed Peter the map with illuminating fireflies and traced out a path with my index finger. The mark it lead to looked more like a cross than an x; the note by it in scribbled shorthand wrote 'build.'

I took a lot of turns at a brisk pace, careful not to double back, and eventually our shadow dropped off my radar.

I couldn't relax.

I lead us back on track. The city was actually rather nice here with the road free of potholes or broken glass, and the buildings still had a proud air. Water was still dripping from one of the gutters in fat droplets that splashed onto the concrete of the sidewalk. The streetlight chased away the faded colors and washed out greys to reveal dark green siding and a handsome red door. The windows were tucked away behind steel grates and as I got closer I could see why: watches, necklaces, earrings and bracelets were on display. The sign above the door in rustic lettering spelled out 'Tannerman's Jewelers.'

There was a warehouse beside it, all windows dark. Innocent enough picture.

The view from my bugs told a different story.

Behind the buildings and away from prying eyes on the street were men in low contrast uniforms and what might be body armor, familiar shapes in their hands. Guns. They were loading boxes into the blocky form of a Humvee or armored truck. At first glance you could say they were just transporting valuables from the jewelry store, the same way you wouldn't bat an eyelash at seeing an armored truck at the back of a bank. However, unless they were emptying the entire store of its merchandise for some reason, there were a few too many boxes there. Too many people, I felt.

Still, I would give them the chance to prove they weren't who I thought they were. One.

"Got something," I told Peter. I absently updated Bao on where we were. "The back of those buildings, seven men." An idea formed in my head. I squatted down, mentally drawing a square on the street. "They have a van behind them," a millipede crawled into position, "and they are loading up boxes." I had a few small beetles stand very still. Seven fireflies marked the men, one was pacing and I had one follow his movements. "These three have guns ready to use, the others will have to get hands free and draw first."

Peter crouched down next to me. "The buildings?"

A large beetle represented the jeweler's and a centipede the warehouse.

"I'll handle them." He said, straightening.

"Nothing permanent," I said quickly. I had to swallow my heart back down. I didn't think he would, I hoped he wouldn't, but I had to be sure. "They need to be able to answer some questions."

He gave me an assessing look and I met it.

 _You're one of the good ones, right?_ I thought.

"Duh." The boyish, slightly unhinged grin he flashed me made me let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding.

"Any surveillance?" He asked.

I took another look at the scene. There were two cameras overseeing the front and back of the store and the front of the warehouse had one as well, but behind it seemed open. I relayed that information, and he scanned the buildings. "Here's what I'm thinking," he began.

* * *

The moon slipped behind a cloud. The street briefly went dark and that was our cue.

Peter crashed into them from above, a wrecking ball covered in bone taking two with him, yanking a third man off his feet with his tail. He recovered fast as they raised the alarm, his arm becoming elastic and stretching, whip-like with his fist a club at the end, a clean sweep. His bone armor rippled, revealing vents in his flesh that hissed with faint gray vapor.

Those scrambling for their guns froze a few critical seconds to hold their breath or cover their noses and mouth.

They were soon standing still for another reason: three-inch-long hornets alighting on their faces.

"A precaution, gentlemen," I said, coming out from the darkness in between the two buildings, trying hard to breathe evenly and not give it away that I'd jogged in. I had to stay out of range until Peter's distraction. He could sneak around the back, climb to the top of the building and jump off without giving a shit. "To keep this friendly."

'Nuff said.

Up close, their uniforms had no distinguishing marks or logos, no badges and I frowned behind my mask. I steeled myself. "Reach for your guns, and this will get a lot more unpleasant."

Two didn't listen.

Many things happened at once.

Peter slammed the head of the nearest mercenary into the van with a loud clong. I called down my swarm, signaling the other half of my hive with the urgent chirping of a cricket. I drove stingers into soft flesh, feeling it like it was my own fingernails that were digging into their eyelids and scraping the eyeball underneath.

They screamed in shock and pain before Peter barreled into them.

The rest remained frozen.

I breathed in, once and shook myself loose. My hornets buzzed in agitation, the chemical trail urging them to attack stirring them, me, up.

"Don't," I repeated.

Giant Asian Hornets were aggressive.

I knew that intellectually and was familiar with the bleedthrough that I got from my bugs when I controlled them, but I didn't think it would matter in the long run. I would get better at using my powers with practice, and it would be a thing of a past. I didn't think that it was possible for me and my 'swarm' to resonate, for lack of a better word.

My first brush with aggressive bugs came from my Black Widows. They were territorial with instincts driving them to kill and eat other spiders. I felt it, and maybe was a bit snappish and short tempered, but I never felt like acting on it. Even Emma at her worst didn't have me wondering whether or not I should eat her.

Here and now though, all the hornets wanted to do was attack. To punish. Those were things I wanted.

I was still in control. But giving in was more tempting than I expected.

The ones I stung were curled on the floor, one of them in a fetal position clutching at his face. The other was trying to pull off a stoic but I'd already heard him scream. His eyelid was swelling quickly to the point where I wasn't sure he could open that eye even if he wanted to. He had the same kind of forced stillness people adopted when confronted with an angry, barking dog. Don't make any sudden moves, and maybe you'll be left alone.

I had no intention of doing that.

I moved my swarm with slow, deliberate movements. The pests I just spread out around us in a sphere. I kept it big enough to give us room without breathing in a mosquito, but packed them dense enough to be a visible 'wall' of bugs. I wanted to show them that there was no escaping me. I wanted it to seem like a cage. The less time I wasted trying to convince them that I held all the cards here, the better.

The dangerous bugs, the Brown Recluses and Black Widows, the creepy crawlies that people instinctively shied away from because they had too many legs, or huge mandibles; those I had crawl over the mercs. I placed the spiders underneath their collars and made the hornets walk around on their faces. They were big enough that each step could be felt.

"I don't want this to get nasty," I said. Every biting creature I had on them gently nipped the skin in warning. "I'm going to ask questions. And you will answer them. Does everyone understand how this works?"

I had their complete and undivided attention. Good.

"Browbeat." I turned my head in Peter's direction, purposely taking my eyes off them. "Open a crate."

Peter walked over casually with his tail lashing back and forth against the pavement with hair raising scraping sounds. I smiled a little under my mask. He'd caught on to what I was doing.

The smile faded as Peter clenched his fist, and bone spikes spurted out of his knuckles with a light splash of red. The crates were made out of flat planes of cork and plywood and nailed shut, but still just wood. His first blow splintered the top with a loud crack. The second punched all the way through. He used both hands to pry the large splinters apart and dig out packing straw, then he hefted the 'merchandise' for me to see.

I looked at the gleaming metal casing and made a show of looking back at the shop. Inside I was breathing a gigantic sigh of relief. The little niggling doubt of whether or not I had just assaulted a legitimate transport operation evaporated. "That's not jewelry," I pointed out.

I didn't get a response and I wasn't expecting one.

I hadn't asked a question yet and if they had any hope of concealing information from me, their only options were to either obey the letter of the law, or not talk.

If they chose the second option, I would have a problem.

I had the bark, but my bite was of the 'biting or stinging with venomous insects' variety. I had limited control over the actual injection of venom because for most of my swarm, it was an entirely involuntary process. I didn't have reliable means of pain without lingering damage. I needed fire or bullet ants, or other things with a painful bite or sting that wouldn't leave scars or a lingering, permanent case of dead.

My hand drifted to the small of my back where the pouch on my costume was, containing the epipens. After a moment of thought, I fished one out and held it in front of me so that could all see. I nodded towards the one guy I stung who still had his wits about him.

"Why were you moving this out?" I didn't mention the name because there was still a chance that they didn't answer directly to Coil, but through a proxy.

The man stared at me through his good eye for several seconds. "We were on a deadline. It had to be moved."

My pulse sped up at the mention of a deadline. "Had to be tonight?" I asked for confirmation.

"Yes."

I tossed him the epipen and dug out another for the guy on the ground. I would have given it to them even if he hadn't answered, but they didn't know that. I was already sick and tired of being the one not able to tell a lie from an omission of truth. Nice to be on the other side of it for once.

"Where was it going to be delivered to?"

Silence greeted that question.

I chewed on my lip as I thought about my options. I spoke again, just to make sure that they didn't get the impression that I was working through a dilemma. "We were doing so well too."

I could try verbal threats again, reminding them exactly what they had crawling on them but I didn't have much hope of that working. Not only had I threatened before, but I had backed it up that time with my hornets when it didn't ensure their cooperation. No, just talking wasn't going to work. Worse, I needed them cowed. It was still two against six, if the one on the ground stayed down, but I wasn't willing to kill just to make a point.

I leaned on Peter again, feeling slightly sick to my stomach. "That one." I pointed out a man a bit more heavyset than his peers. Poisons lost their potency the bigger someone was. Snake bites, spider bites, alcohol…It was still going to hurt.

Browbeat in his skeletal armor played his role and shoved my target forward. I ignored the ugly, rebellious sneer on the man's face. He worked for a super villain that put bombs in people. I wasn't going to lose any sleep over his contempt of me.

A flicker outside my sphere divided my attention unexpectedly. A single firefly had blundered into my 'sphere' of bugs line-of-sight and it spooked me a little. I could have sworn that every bug in a block and a half radius was under my control. To see one that evidently wasn't, and closing in on my position, had me grasping for control of it out of sheer paranoia.

Only for me to discover that I already had it.

If there was a time and place for the sound of a record scratching, that moment of realization would be it.

I watched as a procession of fireflies, my fireflies, led the familiar forms of Bao and the others to the street in front of the jewelry store. I focused on them and urged them to complete the journey.

"Guests," I said simply. Internally, my mind was racing. I remembered reaching out to the fireflies I'd put with Bao with new orders but after the adrenaline died down, I'd completely forgotten about them. And still they carried out my directives without me being consciously aware of it.

Did they just follow the last urge I gave them? That didn't quite explain how they were able to navigate the grid of Brockton Bay's streets without me keeping track of them. Or maybe I was, somehow. I already knew that my bugs 'bled' into me, now I was faced with the possibility that it was a two-way street.

With the fireflies providing a bit of extra light, I could clearly see the tension in Bao's expression. His right hand opened and closed around the handle of the baseball bat slung across his shoulders like it was a stress ball. The rest of our group followed him like wolves trailing after an alpha, but they were just as jittery. Knuckles were quietly cracked, arms were stretched and those that had weapons had tight grips on them.

And me and Peter had rounded up a bunch of vulnerable, acceptable targets.

I had an odd thought then. Hadn't I just been considering my options for inflicting pain? I flinched away from that train of thought when Bao caught sight of me. His face softened slightly; heart on his sleeve like always.

"Missed the fun?" He quipped.

"Not all -"

Peter's tail moved.

Punctuating my words was a wet crunch that escalated into the sound of popping plastic and cracking metal. The minion I'd ignored, because he'd been curled up on the floor, grunted in pain and bit his lip until it bled.

" - of it." I finished.

Peter's face was blank as he lifted his tail, skewered hand on it as well as the broken remains of what looked like a walkie talkie.

"Naughty, naughty," he said. He used his powers to make his voice rougher, more menacing.

Bao turned and without warning he whipped the bat off his shoulder and slammed it into the jaw of my chosen victim. The man choked out a gargled scream. His entire face purpled but an area on his jaw line was quickly turning an angry red. I was fairly certain it was broken.

"Anyone else want to try something stupid?" Bao called out. He swung the bat down, purposely scratching the aluminum on the pavement. He met the eye of each and every mook we had captured, and spat in front of them. "Figures."

"Who were you contacting?" I demanded. I felt I already knew the answer to that. A walkie talkie didn't need numbers being dialled, just pressing and holding the talk button would ensure that anyone on the other side could hear what we were saying. I quickly went over the conversation. I didn't name Coil or myself, but I had dropped 'Browbeat.' If Coil was more aware of the capes in the city than Parahumans Online was, then he'd know we were ABB.

Didn't matter. He'd done enough to piss the gang off by trying to kill Amy. It shouldn't be a surprise.

"We could hand them over," Bao mused.

"To Lung?" I asked a bit tersely.

"Oni Lee."

Oddly, the reminder of that particular pet psychopath of Lung's didn't reassure me.

I swallowed it down. "Get up," I ordered. "Consider yourselves requisitioned."

The ABB around me cracked grins.

Coil's men got up silently. Professionals, maybe, I thought. I took in their uniforms and how it defined their group by how much it didn't identify them. Soldiers. Where does one even find paramilitary willing to work for a super villain?

My paranoia came surging back, though for a different reason. They had a deadline for moving computer parts and it was tonight. That was the only thing they had been willing to say. Why would that question be answered, but not anything else? If they were as loyal and experienced as they seemed, why answer at all? Why give away a piece of Coil's plan?

They had a deadline and it was tonight.

My heart began a slow descent to the pit of my stomach. Why not answer that question? The deadline was tonight. The plan was already in motion.

Tonight.

Fuck.

For three blocks I prayed I was wrong, or at least that it wasn't as dire as I thought I was. I spread my bugs to my absolute maximum range, and angled their eyes in order to see further. Seven thousand three hundred and forty one insects watched Brockton Bay.

That meant I had a front row seat when, roughly ten minutes later, ABB's skyline erupted, and the thunderclap of exploding bombs rattled my ear drums.

I ran. My legs pumped with every ounce of speed I could pour into them, the soft soles of my costume doing nothing to hide how hard the street was. My swarm surged in front of me, scouting, trying to see the damage before I got there. The heat was nearly stifling and my first attempt of just swarming a burning building with bugs met with fire and burning wings. The fledgling idea of running in there and hauling people out myself withered. I looked around for help.

First one here.

My bugs alerted me I wasn't the last.

My first warning was a hole suddenly appearing in my sphere and I span just in time to see what looked like a small cloud of black mist drop down from the rooftops. I remembered this cloud, this parahuman, when I was searching for Coil's people.

I had initially thought it was Grue, but that hadn't made sense when I took my bugs dying into account, and now that I was taking a closer look, I knew that this couldn't be Grue. The cloud was much smaller than what the PHO forums had said Grue could put out in a fight, and it tended to cover a wider area, like a fog bank made of darkness.

"Coming to look at the fireworks you fuckers set off? You make me sick." I blinked behind my mask. Grue definitely wasn't female. Who the hell was this, and why was her voice so familiar?

"Why the hell would ABB do this? This is our territory!" I snapped back, shifting my swarm around and above me. I didn't even think of retreating. Everyone had vulnerabilities. It just a matter of finding them. I could feel Browbeat, the moth on his back was moving in my general direction. If I got his attention, two against one.

The mist was rapidly reforming into floating swords as the teenage girl, she didn't sound old enough to be anything but, stepped forward with a derisive snort, "Yeah? Would make a nice statement wouldn't it? Blow someone up, send a message to everyone to toe the line, especially with your extortion."

That stung, and it pissed me off, to be reminded about Dad had to go through every month. My swarm buzzed and clicked around me and I thought I heard an echo as I hissed out, "There are people in trouble, and I am going to help them."

A sword dragged through brickwork without making a sound; the blade had cleaved a clean line. Right. Not getting touched with that. I noticed that her mist was diminishing, no, being funneled into those weapons. It didn't cover her quite as thoroughly anymore. Behind my mask, I smiled.

Vulnerability.

She stepped forwards and the fire light played off a bright-red ponytail, "No, you're going to put your hands behind your fucking head so I can hand you over to the real good guys, not play this 'honorable' Yakuza bullshit."

More swords appeared, and the mist faded further, allowing me to see what sort of costume she was wearing. It was underwhelming to say the least; her costume was clearly store-bought and the mark of an amateur on their first patrol, all dark tiger-striped camouflage patterns and a black full-face mask that all had to have come from the local military surplus/hunting good store.

Somehow I knew that I wouldn't be surprised if the price tags were still on those clothes, they looked practically brand-new.

I was being threatened by a rookie on her first night out and somehow it felt a touch nostalgic, not to mention a little weird, to be in this situation. But I didn't have time for this as I remained standing and pointed back at the building. No, the street, that was rapidly being engulfed in flames.

"If you haven't noticed, buildings are on fire."

"What makes you think I give a fuck?"

The voice and the hair made it click for me.

Emma.

I could hear the rush of blood in my ears simply overpowering the sound of the building slowly giving in to the heat and structural damage. Emma. Emma was a fucking cape!? I took a step towards her, numb. I was seconds away from recalling my bugs and setting every one of them on the selfish bitch who made it her calling to ruin my life, when I became aware of the sounds my insects were picking up. People in that building were screaming, pleading for help.

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached.

I didn't have time to fucking deal with this.

"Get out of my way." I directed my bugs. Again, I thought. Seeing through the smoke with them was not easy and I found myself relying on their secondary senses more than anything else. Often they ended up too close to the flames just like the first time, and I fought down shivers when I felt the extensions of myself being seared, smothered, charred.

I extracted my hornets after losing three. It felt like a huge loss, like I had just crippled myself with my blind flailing but I pressed on with the others.

Emma did not decide to help matters.

She stepped forward, everything about her body language screaming confrontation. The swords made out of her mist increased in number and I stared at them, unimpressed. She didn't launch them, instead moving closer in some kind of power play so I was reasonably certain she couldn't. Her power was short range, and making those weapons took away her protection.

I could take her. Lung did get that one thing right. The fear of a rabid bitch's bite was easily broken. Emma was not Kali, Oni Lee, Coil. She was no Lung. I refused to be scared of her any more.

"Why the fuck should I listen to you?"

"You don't get it," I snapped. "I. Do. Not. Care. Get out of the way and shut the fuck up, or I will make you. This is our territory. You do not matter. They-" I waved my arm at the burning building. "Matter. _Validate your existence_ or _leave_."

I was playing on a hunch. What she had told me, about being a victim and being a survivor, for all that I couldn't understand why that lead to me being locked in a dumpster, Emma had a thing about agency. If I was wrong, then I was wrong. Didn't make a difference. For the second time that night, I deliberately took my human eyes off an enemy. There was no Sophia or Madison here. I still had my hive to protect me.

"Browbeat!" I snapped. My hornets saw him tilt his head before he veered off his path. I didn't quite sigh in relief. Yes, he had super senses. In large bounding steps off intact buildings, he crashed by me. He glanced between me and Emma but gave no sign what he was thinking.

" 'Sup?"

"Two adults, one child still trapped in there. Second floor, 3rd room." Wading in ourselves and blindly searching would have been suicide. Less so for Peter, but the main danger of fire is suffocating from the smoke. I didn't know if that was as much as a problem for him as it would be for me, but getting him in and out quick couldn't hurt.

Prioritize the living.

"On it."

I could see Emma watching me. She didn't know who I was. I had no intention of enlightening her.

I started running towards the next fire I could see a few blocks down. The streets were started to get crowded with warm bodies among burning debris, but there was little panic or fighting to escape.

I could see people standing on curbs and low brick fences to make themselves visible, shouting in languages I didn't understand, directing the crowd. People were turning on outdoor faucets and filling random containers with water and dumping them over cars that had caught fire. Space was cleared for shell shocked victims. People pointed at their homes, missing a family member or neighbor. Others held on to each other, crying.

Police sirens and the wail of fire trucks pierced the air.

I didn't know what was going on in her mind, but behind me, Emma trailed.

In my shadow, where she _belonged._ That made a light, warm feeling rise in my chest as I scouted out more buildings. It felt like _victory_.

And it lasted until I saw the man with the Oni mask on the roofs and the sirens were drowned out by a roar of seething, draconic rage.


End file.
